


what we feel in the rain

by DaemoninFluff



Series: when the lights turn out, what do we see [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 1880ish, Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sherlock Holmes, Arthur hating his new last name, Classism, Hurt Merlin, Jealous Arthur, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Smut, Murder, Nothing Really Happens Here, Oblivious Arthur, Oblivious Merlin, Pining, Reincarnation, Slow Burn, also Arthur being oblivious to his own feelings, author doesn't know how to tag, every compilation on YT so that and fics is all I know, idiots to lovers, just so you know I watched like 10 ep of Merlin and, like super mild, mentioning of death wish, mentioning of eating problems, mentioning of possible depression, now look at me trying to write a summary, or as slow as my gay ass is able to, poor attempt to be funny, pretty much bad talk about christianity but it's all true so I'm not sorry, sleeping problems, the king returns, they believe in norse gods since I have no clue about old welsh religion, timerelated homophobia, timerelated racism, unintended ableism, what should be obvious since it's a SH AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaemoninFluff/pseuds/DaemoninFluff
Summary: A mysterious series of murder in London, the return of one future king and Merlin wasn't sure about his mental state.A foreign world full of wonder, the loss of all people he knew and something Arthur wasn't sure he feeled.The original Sherlock Holmes AU no one asked for since I find boring af to bring Arthur back in todays time but also didn't want to write one in Camelot cause I couldn't put in what I wanted thereWill be uploaded every few days, I dunno yet
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: when the lights turn out, what do we see [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555114
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yo guyyys! So this is my first work in this fandom, my NaNo19 project and the first multi chapter fic I wrote in english!  
> Since english isn't my first language and I still have to learn a hela lot I would like it if you could point out any mistakes you find and give feedback! I actually think it would have become better if I had written it in my mother tounge first and afterwards simply translated bUT I wanted to do it in only english so here we are lol  
> Hope y'all have fun!
> 
> !BEWARE OF THE TWs IN THE TAGS!
> 
> Also thanks to bokulikescomics on tumblr, great friend <3

1879; Merlin had been in London for two weeks by now. He knew he wouldn’t stay much longer, couldn’t. There was the urgent need to go back to Arthur, back to the lake of Avalon, better to say pond nowadays. He didn’t really want to go back. It hurt, being there; but it hurt more to be away. This far away. He knew he had to return to Arthur, his friend, his king, his- He wasn’t sure.

He just was sure he belonged to Arthur and Arthur to Albion – the British Empire. And he was sure he had to wait. Wait until Arthur would finally rise again; to take his place as the future king.

It was possible he had to wait another hundred years, another thousand even, until the king would return, until he wasn’t alone any longer, but for Arthur he would do so.

He put his test tube down, not sure what he had tried to accomplish. The pinkish color inside of it stunk to the heavens and the material was thick like tar. It wasn’t right.

He took a glance around himself; no one else was in the laboratory anymore. With a wipe of his hand the stinky result vanished into nothingness. Merlin put the test tube away and closed the Bunsen burner’s gas supply. Working under this circumstances was impossible. He already knew he wouldn’t find an answer to his current problem and even if – he took a look out of the window – it was way too far into the night to get his information right to Lancelot.

 _No, not Lancelot_ , he reminded himself. The Inspector had Lancelot’s looks, had his soul, but it wasn’t his best friend anymore. The same as Gwen. Or any of the others he had meet in this or the past lifes he had went through. But he also couldn’t become friends with them again. Not anymore. It would hurt too much to lose them again, to stay alive alone. All alone. Again. _I’m already all alone._ But was it worth it losing them again?

He took his scarf, looped it around his neck and then threw his long coat over his shoulders. Small shoulders, nearly the same as at the time he had met Arthur for the first time. Only his hair was longer. It had been longer for a while now. Not as long as it had been around 1685, when he tried to join a group of pirates and only stayed in England because he felt the burden of leaving Arthur as if the whole ship was collapsing on him. Or maybe the whole of Camelot.

Taking a deep breath he left the little workplace of his own; possibly not really of his since the laboratory belonged to the University which belonged to the city of London and therefore to the Queen or actually to Arthur. And since Arthur and him were friends it practically belonged to him, he mused. Or probably not, since he knew Arthur. Whatever.

He went trough the sparsely lighted corridors out onto the street. The moon hung high, shining through dark clouds and fog and whatever came out of the high towers belonging to the companies. It hung low over the streets, filling it with a deadly smell even the lower town and the stalls of Camelot couldn’t compare to. It covered the stars he was only to watch in the outer villages, which were way smaller, or at Avalon. The stars which had seen him live a long life, a mad life. Was he mad? Maybe not as much as in the beginning. Not as much as in the moment he had lost Arthur. Or maybe he was. He didn’t remember it that well, did his best to forget, most of the time.

Merlin started walking, thought a carriage would be more comfortable and reasonable for the way he had ahead. But he didn’t want to talk and he knew even though his clothing spoke of money, he himself and his living circumstances didn’t. He didn’t want people to know he had big money, had a house on the country. It would only lead to questions he wasn’t able to answer. Or didn’t want to answer, not even to his once dear friends.

Once; that was the word that mattered. He had befriended them some times over the centuries, but only in the beginning. After a thousand years he had taken a big step aside as soon as he saw them, but now, about 400 years afterwards, he was able to face them. Even though it hurt.

He walked the long street in his home’s direction, knowing it was dangerous to walk at this time all by himself. But who would walk with him? Who would act to protect him? Who would even care? The answer was simple, no one. And he had his magic, was able to protect himself. He wasn’t sure if they would still burn him if someone found out. After Christianity took foot in Albion it had been punished by dead for a long time. Too long and too many good sorcerer had to die. Today it was only one known by the world. Merlin wasn’t sure if they were the last one left. He hoped for the opposite; hoped there were still sorcerer here in England and all over the world, spread out, well protected by loved once as his dear mother had done for himself.

The cool wind let him shiver and he put his hands in the coat’s pockets. It would rain soon, maybe even storm. He wished for it, for it was the only time he was able to cry.

Merlin didn’t dare to cry otherwise, he feared the Sidhe could see it and find joy in his troubles. These little gits probably would.

The streetlights shining his way got farther away each the longer he walked. The poor part of London he lived in wasn’t as advanced as the district he liked to do his little projects in. One of the reasons why he only went there to sleep. The other was, no place had felt like home after Arthur was left at the ground of the lake and Gaius was dead.

Everyone was dead; only their souls stayed.

He still felt bad about Gaius. About many others. Merlin wasn’t sure how, but the moment he had come back from all the pain and grieve of Arthur’s death, twenty years had gone by. He hadn’t even realized, not stopping on his way back to Camelot to tell his Queen and everyone else. Not until a guard had stopped him to know why he, a stranger, demanded to see the Queen without any invitation or being summoned. Guinevere had looked so much older, so much sadder. To lose both her loves had taken a toll on her, but even though she was still beautiful, as were her children. Merlin hadn’t asked about the father. He hadn’t stayed long, had heard about Gaius’ death and went away.

He stopped in front of the Thames, wishing he had shown himself in the time of the burning of sorcerers, had stopped this pain with the simple dead of his.

But he couldn’t leave Arthur. Never.

He took a deep breath, realizing his thoughts had – once again – drifted to Arthur and he had lost focus of his surroundings. There was no time to go back into his head, like he had done the first twenty years and some other a few hundred years afterwards, and then again about fifty years ago, for a month, until someone came into his house and was surprised to find a living creature.

Living was another thing. He hadn’t died yet, seemingly wasn’t able to, but he wasn’t living either. Not really.

He stopped, shook this thoughts away and tried to concentrate on his way home. It were only a few blocks left. Or he could jump into the river and hope to die. No.

He wasn’t supposed to be that dark. He wasn’t supposed to have any darkness in himself. He had to stay light, for Arthur, as soon as he came back. If he came back.

The first drop hit right into his neck and let him shiver once more. Nothing unusual in November. But then there was something left, something in this drop, something magical. It scrabbled over his whole body and filled it with the pure and feral kind of danger only a wild beast could generate.

He took a deep breath and walked on without turning around. He didn’t fear the dark, didn’t fear the danger. Not anymore, not any longer. He had grown up, mostly. Or he thought he had. If someone or, in this case, something would attack, he would be prepared.

_Merlin…_

His steps went slower, he came to a stop. He surely was going crazy.

_Merlin…_

It was- It couldn’t be. Couldn’t be, no. This wasn’t real. He was just getting crazy. He needed to go back to Arthur, back to the lake of Avalon. Maybe it was the melancholia. Arthur couldn’t-

_Merlin!_

“Arthur”, he mumbled, waited, but nothing.

No, nothing. He had been right, it couldn’t be possible. Arthur wasn’t here and he wouldn’t be back now. He couldn’t be back now. Merlin wasn’t at Avalon’s and no one would be there to help him understand and nurse him. No, Arthur wasn’t back. No.

He went down the road, stopping in front of the door of the house he stayed in. The threshold was built too high what had him stumbling over it more than once when he had come here drunk of sleep or other things. This time he had no problems, even though the rain might had become one if he had stood outside any longer.

It now went down like buckets; full drops and cold as ice. He just hoped it wouldn’t start snowing early this year.

Maybe he could convince the gods to not let it snow at all, so the lake wouldn’t be frozen at the edges and Arthur wouldn’t be freezing if he came. If, when.

Yielding his shoes off he went through the small hallway right into his room. The small window didn’t let in any light from outside, but Merlin had his magic. Always had his magic. Everything that stayed with him was his magic.

With a simple flick of his fingers the torches in the room lit up, revealing the worn down wallpaper and his small workplace.

_Merlin…_

He halted.

“No”, his voice wasn’t more than a whisper. “You aren’t here. You can’t be here. You’re-”

_Merlin!_

It didn’t make any sense. He needed to go to Avalon. Now. Right now. But the next train wouldn’t set off before six in the morning. _Way too late, way too late,_ he thought.

What if it wasn’t Arthur? What if it was part of the magic he had felt in the rain? Maybe a Mare. _Oh please, no Mare._

He turned around, once, twice, but he couldn’t make anything out in his room. Nothing was different to before. His books still shoved under the thin mattress, thinner than the one he had had in his room in Camelot. He had to say, many things were worse then at his time in Camelot, even though at that time he had been a servant and now he was- He wasn’t sure what he was.

Not a servant, not at any means. He hadn’t served anyone since Arthur and he never would. It wasn’t as if he wanted to be Arthur’s servant again, if the king came back. Or maybe he wanted. He probably wanted. For Arthur he would.

_Merlin!_

He was going crazy. Surely going crazy. He couldn’t stay inside. At the moment he felt as if he couldn’t do anything. Didn’t want anything. He wanted Arthur back, but that was all. Maybe he wanted his old life in Camelot back, to simply have lived a long life with his friends and king, a happy life. Instead he was here.

He didn’t want to be here. Again, _didn’t_.

So he put his shoes back on and went outside. The rain was down to his bones in seconds. It was cold and he knew he had his magic to stay warm, but at the moment he didn’t want it. Didn’t.

Merlin went back, nearly the whole way. He just stopped when he arrived at the Thames, dark water being broken. The lanterns reflected in it but brought not much light. Not enough to see anything, even though it wouldn’t matter. Not at this time of night, not on a night like this. No one would be outside, apart of prostitutes, policemen and murderers. Maybe a few drunk, who knew.

_Merlin…_

He raised his head; no one was there. He was just going to get mad again. Again. He didn’t want to. It had been so long, the last time. Had taken so long to recover. But at this time he had friends. Had his friends. Now, he was all alone. All by himself.

He breathed, tried to breath. His eyes hurt. He was going to cry, he knew. The pain always was the same, going up his nose like deep cuts and then behind his eyes. He hated this feeling, hated to cry because of it.

He sobbed when the first tear run down his face, hot against his skin. The rain drummed down on his head, his face, but still cold and painful, though helping his head from exploding of heat.

It hurt. He was going to get ill, too, standing outside at this kind of weather. But it hurt much more on the inside. The _left alone_ part in all of this.

He screamed. Out of pain, out of frustration, out of loneliness.

He was only happy no one would hear him over the storm, no one would hear him so far away from the residences. It probably wouldn’t come anyone by until morning. And maybe he would have died until then.

He wished he would die until then.

His breath was harsh, but he couldn’t really hear it himself. There was only the rush of his blood and maybe the rain coming through, but the rain and his blood sounded the same so who cared. Just a swoosh and swoosh, go on and on.

He fell to his knees, looked up into the sky.

“Is it- Is it that what you want”, he screamed. “Broken? Hurt? Feel even more pain than I already feel?” His breath hitched, he swallowed, tried to around the lump in his throat.

_Merlin…_

“Sir?”

“Arthur isn’t here”, he mumbled. “Arthur isn’t here. No one is here. They’re dead, all dead, only their souls-”

“Sir”, a hand grasped his shoulder, he winced, jerked back.

“He isn’t here”, he repeated. “Arthur isn’t-”

“Mr. Holmes”, now the other hand packed him, turned him to look right into the face of Lancelot, right into his friends face. But why was he looking at him like a stranger? Why was he calling him a foreign name?

“Lancelot”, he sobbed, “he isn’t here. Arthur isn’t- He- Oh, by the mother-” His hands crawled into the other man’s jacket, holding him tight. “I think I’m going mad. Do you think I’m mad, Lancelot? Please tell me I’m not. I don’t want to be mad again. Not again.”

He sobbed and rain and tears disguised his view. He didn’t know what Lancelot did, if he did anything. Lancelot wouldn’t even understand- No, Lancelot couldn’t understand. He couldn’t be real. He was dead, died long before Arthur. Oh, he was going mad. So mad.

It was so cold. Lancelot would be cold too. He was dead, sure he was cold. Was the cold disruptive for dead people? He didn’t ask, only acted.

The moment his eyes turned golden the rain around them came to a halt and their bodies filled with warmth. Merlin didn’t understand Lancelot’s gasp, didn’t understand why the man’s grip tightened.

Lancelot never had had a problem with his magic.

He tried to breath, tried to swallow; it didn’t work. His lounges burned, as did his eyes. His whole body hurt.

“Arthur died”, Merlin whispers. “He died and I waited so long already. It’s no wonder I’m going mad again.”

“Who”, Lancelot asked. Merlin didn’t understand why. “Who died? When? What happened?”

“Arthur, Lancelot”, Merlin repeats again. “And I seem to be dead too, or else you wouldn’t be here. Arthur, even though they said he would be the once and _future_ king- I heard him- It isn’t- In all this centuries I didn’t- And now- Is it because I die? Tell me, am I free, finally? Can I finally die? I don’t want to live alone anymore. I don’t want to hurt anymore. I-”

“Mr. Holmes”, Lancelot said, Merlin blinked. “Calm down for a bit, please.”

Nodding, Merlin tried to remove his hands from Lancelot’s tunic. Not a tunic, he realized after a few seconds. A police uniform. Inspector Staver, he reminded himself. Not Lancelot, not his friend, but Inspector Staver.

Fear moved up his back and in the next moment the rain splashed down on them again, his hands becoming cold, “Inspector, I-”

“Hush”, the Inspector heaved him up. “Can be happy I found you and not someone else, or they would probably bring you to a sanatorium, Mr. Holmes.”

Merlin wasn’t so sure about that, since he wouldn’t have confused Smitherson or Blackwood for a friend of his, but he didn’t tell.

“Now come you with me”, Inspector Staver pushed him in the houses direction, up under a shop’s canopy. “Tell me what happened.”

Trying to get a whole breath in, Merlin leaned against the wall, did his best to release his wrists from the Inspector’s grip. One lantern stood right next to them, shining on their faces, making them look cold and hollow. Or maybe he already was.

“It doesn’t matter”, he breathed out. “It’s too long ago, no one remembers. Or maybe they do, but only in legends.”

Staver’s expression turned from a questioning one to a pitying and Merlin hated it from the start. He didn’t need it, didn’t need the pity or anything else. He still remembered the face Gwen had given him – _him_ – when he had told her about Arthur. As if it hadn’t been _her_ husband. But maybe time had taken away part of her pain. But it never took his.

“If you need to talk about it, we can go into a pub. I know one that’s open at this time still.”

Merlin shook his head, shoving hair out of his eyes, “Don’t you have to work? You’re still in uniform.”

They ended up sitting in a niche of a worn down dive Merlin hadn’t been in before. Maybe he had been in the house, once, a long time ago, but he surely hadn’t been in _here_. The candles lit the room only sparely so everything was in an eerie twilight. The table they were sitting at was old and full of cuts and dents. Merlin followed one specially long cut with his fingers while Staver ordered something by the barmaid.

He wasn’t sure what he should tell the other man, what he could tell. He would think him even madder then before. But even then…

_Merlin, listen…_

_Arthur_ , he thought, _Arthur, should I tell him?_

“Holmes?”

Merlin looked up. The Inspector’s eyes watched him wary. Merlin gulped, leaned back. He thought about where to start. Maybe at the beginning, when he met Arthur for the first time, or would that be too early? Or with who he was when it came down to history – more of legends, since people weren’t sure if Arthur had ever really lived.

“Arthur fell in Camlann, even though he didn’t die until we arrived at the lake of Avalon”, he started.

Staver’s brows furrowed but he didn’t say anything. Merlin was grateful to the least.

When he wanted to go on the barmaid came by to bring them their drinks. Staver grasped into his uniform’s pocket but Merlin already tossed some coins on the table. The woman grasped them and vanished to the next booth with a grin.

Merlin took a big gulp, waited a few seconds to let the ale burn down his throat.

“I thought I could save him. I should have saved him. It was my responsibility. But as all world knows, I failed.”

The Inspector waited a moment but when Merlin didn’t continue he asked, “How do you mean that?”

“Do you see the king of Albion hanging around anywhere”, Merlin snorted. “I probably would have died then, too, if it wasn’t for his return. A return we- _I_ wait for since way too long.” He sighted, took another sip. “All my friends, long dead. All my foes, long defeated. Sure, their souls are still about…” He took a long look at the Inspector, on Lancelot who wasn’t Lancelot anymore, not his Lancelot, in the end.

Merlin hated the pity he saw in the man’s dark eyes, hated that it meant he was right, they wouldn’t remember, never. He bit his lip.

“So, who are you”, Staver asked, tilting his cup back and forth.

Merlin thought about that. It wasn’t a simple question. The druids had brought the story to the people so the sorcerer helping Arthur was called Emrys, but there was a knight they called Merlin. He never had been a knight. He also never had been a sorcerer to Arthur.

“A- A friend”, he answered simple. “I don’t know… So much changed over time. I never was his mage, I never was his knight, even though that are the things they call me in the legends by today.”

“You mean Emrys”, Staver stated.

“Emrys”, Merlin took another sip, this one bigger. “That’s what the druids called me. Merlin, that’s my actual name, the one my mother gave me.”

“So you are a knight.”

“No! I never was a knight, how could I? Do I look like a knight to you”, he gave the other man a measured look. “Arthur would laugh at that, I know it.” He stopped in his track. Maybe Arthur wouldn’t laugh about it though. Arthur had once told him he were the bravest man he knew. No, that had only been because-

_Merlin…_

His breath hitched.

“What were you, if neither a knight nor sorcerer to him”, the Inspector asked.

Merlin wasn’t quite sure if he just wanted to animate him to speak on or if he amused him out of fear. Maybe he should take a step back, really start with the beginning. It wasn’t necessary to tell everything, but some things were.

“The day I came to Camelot I met Arthur bullying a servant guy. At the time I didn’t know he was the prince and even after, I didn’t really care. I became his manservant – for saving his damned life, can you imagine?” He laughed out, nearly choked on it. “And then I saved him again and again and again, until I couldn’t. Until we lost. I lost. Him.”

Staver put his ale down with a clonk.

“Arthur didn’t know about my magic. Actually not many knew. Lancelot”, he looked at the man in front of him, “Gaius, I think Gawain knew too, and Gwen, surely. Morgana knew, however she found out.”

His gaze wandered over to the bar. The bottles in the shelves were dirty and full of dust. They probably used them only so they looked like a respectable pub. It didn’t work.

“You don’t need to believe me”, he said after a while in which Inspector Staver hadn’t said a word or drunk anything. “I wouldn’t believe it myself, if I could.”

“What if I want to believe?”

His head turned so fast back to the man, it hurt, “You- Why?” He liked his lips, wasn’t sure if he could trust this words. Even though the Inspector had always been an honest man and in all his lives he had known Lancelot the man never betrayed him; even then Merlin wasn’t sure to trust him in this.

“I have seen people go mad and I’m sure you aren’t, not like them, anyway. Maybe you’re already mad, but in a different way. And you truly are a sorcerer, so why shouldn’t this be true either”, the Inspector explained, rubbing his arm. “Why tell me you were a servant if you could tell me you were a knight and sorcerer, both, Emrys and Merlin, one person, valued by many.”

“And you think a peasant isn’t valued by anyone.”

“No”, Staver laid a hand on his arm, took it away a second later as if burned. “No, that’s not how I mean this.”

“I know, it’s just-”

A scream from outside interrupted him, brought his thoughts to a full stop. He and the Inspector looked at each other, then they were already on their feet and channeled their way through the close standing tables and people.

The door flew open before they reached it and a woman run in, screaming, “A murder! A murder!”

Merlin sighted but shoved her on a near chair. Her hair was wet, her green dress damp on the shoulder he had touched, a sign the rain had went on while they had sat inside.

“What did you see”, Staver asked promptly. “Were there someone else?”

“Just me”, she shook her head, frantic searching for something in her small bag. “Just me, no one else. It was so dark, I didn’t see it at first. Nearly fell over the body, oh god!”

Merlin turned around and went through the door. There was no time to wait. If the woman had seen anything she wouldn’t tell them or had seen it just subconscious. Nothing to get from her so he needed to hurry. Rain would vanish all traces to the killer.

Staver bumped into him just a few feet outside. Merlin had known the man was way faster than him, he had always been. They followed a small path between the houses, dirt coming from all directions. It hadn’t looked like a good place from the beginning, but here it was even worth. Then they found the corpse.

There was no streetlight near them, only a weak light from inside of one of the houses made them even see the body lying right on the wall, stretched out. Merlin let a little light bulb start to glow next to him, startling Staver with it. Then he stopped the rain, just over the dead man to their feet.

The rain still gave a bad feeling, let his skin tingle from magic, but he tried to ignore the danger and concentrate on his job.

“Ever seen this man before”, Staver asked and knelt down next to the body.

“Don’t recognize him, but that doesn’t mean much”, he looked at the man’s elegant clothing, his hair hadn’t gotten a good cut in a while though and on his face were some places full of stubble. “It seems as if he once had money but not that much of it lately. You see his clothes, they are expensive but he has worn this shirt so long it already got holes and has loosen a button, here.” He showed the Inspector. “I don’t see any reason of death, though.”

“Maybe it was poison”, Staver tasted around the man’s throat.

He seemed to accept Merlin’s magic surprisingly good.

He let the light fly closer to the body, lighting the face. The eyes were open but Merlin couldn’t see any signs of strangulation and already crossed out some poisons.

“Probably won’t find any sings of the murderer by this weather. If the woman hasn’t seen anything, as she claims to, the rain will have all evidence taken away”, the Inspector went through his dark hair.

Merlin agreed there. He hated it but there probably wasn’t a big choice for them to find the murderer without any tricks.

“You want to look at anything before I call others?”

Merlin looked at Staver for a moment, then nodded. He touched down the dead’s jacket and trousers, only found a watch and some little change in his pockets, nothing else. The pocket watch had been expensive, silver with an engraving, probably the man’s initials.

“J. F.”, he mumbled. “John, James, Joe, Johann…”

Staver looked at it, shook his head, “We will find out. Just need to find out the watchmaker, he will probably remember. Maybe it isn’t that complicated.”

“Reminds me, I found what you were looking for, for the Henslow case”, Merlin told him, putting the watch back into the man’s pocket. The money he would later give to the children around his staying place. They were his eyes and ears around London.

Staver blew his pipe and in the next moment the rain was thundering back on their heads and on the corpse, the light went out.

_Merlin…_

He woke up in a cold sweat. He didn’t know what he had dreamed, or he probably did but didn’t want to think about it. It had been the early morning hours when he had finally arrived and gone to bed, Arthur’s voice had finally stopped bothering him, but now it was back. Didn’t matter, he would go back to Avalon today anyway.

He took a look at his watch, it was nearly midday. Even too late for a late lunch.

Stiff he got up, pulled some cloth on and made himself ready. He didn’t need anything, he didn’t even have anything from value in here.

Just fifteen minutes later he went out the door and in the direction of King’s Cross. Nothing would stop him on his way to Arthur. He needed to go back, even if it was just for a few weeks. He knew he couldn’t let London be, couldn’t let his studies be, but he needed to go back _now_.

“Good day, Mr. Holmes”, a small girl run by next to him, stopped for a second to give him a wide grin.

He nodded to her, “Good day, Lady Estha.”

She giggled what brought out a smile on his face, “Where are you going?”

“Just… visiting a friend”, he said softly.

“A Lady friend”, she asked interested.

“No”, he grimaced. Merlin wasn’t sure when the last time had been he had visited a woman. On the other hand, it had probably been Gwen in one of her lives, so at least a few hundred years.

“Don’t you wanna marry one day?”

He took a short look at her, puzzled, “My whole life I never thought about marrying someone. Or… Maybe there was someone, but they died a long time ago.”

“Oh”, she mumbled. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“It’s fine”, he ruffled through her blonde hair. “It’s been a long time ago. I think I can live with it by now.”

_Merlin…_

He stopped, then started walking faster, “I’m sorry, Estha, but I am in a hurry. My friend needs me as soon as possible and I’m already later than I want to be.”

“Is he ill”, she asked. Estah had started to jog next to him. He knew the street kids were used to running next to people who didn’t want to give them something but he hated that she had to do it next to him. “Maybe he should see a doctor instead.”

“Hush, Estha, you know I know more than any doctor you could meet in London. And there aren’t really any around the place he stays.”

“D’you have time to buy me some food first though”, she smiled and Merlin did too, looking at her.

“We will need a carriage to be on time, then. You like the bakery at King’s Cross Station?”

She nodded and at the next corner Merlin stopped a small carriage drawn by a sorrel with wild mane. They jumped in and Merlin named their goal. It was nice to watch the streets become more neat and even paved over time, the people wearing proper clothing. He often wished he could give this life to the children living on the streets, starving daily, but he also knew even if he took them from there the next ones would come, again and again. Neither Arthur nor Guinevere had been able to stop it, and even he as greatest sorcerer of all times, as it was told, wouldn’t be able to.

Estha babbled on and on and he nodded, only listening with one ear. His thoughts were with Arthur already, with his house at the lake. His home.

_Merlin, I…_

Maybe Arthur was really coming through to him. Maybe he would really return this time. Maybe he already was back when Merlin would arrive.

Stop. He shouldn’t get his hopes up. Not again.

Merlin didn’t realize they had stopped until Estha nudged him with her sharp elbow and he saw the coachman hold his hand out to him. He payed and jumped off, holding his hand out for Estha to take.

He bought some sweet loafs and also a whole wheat bread which would last longer and would fill more tummies, then he gave the girl a few coins she put into a pocket inside of her thin jacket.

The next train to the north would go in a quarter of an hour. After he bought the ticket he went on board and searched for a place as far away from the food wagon as possible. Food on the train always made him nauseous. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the food or the fast driving locomotive.

He found a window seat, no one else in the compartment yet.

It wasn’t that he disliked train rides. They were definitely more pleasant than the week on a horseback he would have to do otherwise. But then they also let out black steam that smelled like dragon fire or these rockets they brought over from china. Like the shots of a gun.

They reminded him of war.

The ride took a few hours. He exited on a small train station by the name of Gyldeorl, also the name of the small adjacent village.

None of the here living people knew Merlin had build the whole of it himself. Just magic and his bare hands. The same as with the house on the lake. No one had been there to help him, that was that, but he also didn’t want anyone's help.

This village was build for Arthur. The house was build for Arthur. Every stone he had moved was only for Arthur…

He went from the little station through the main street. The cobblestone was old, the last time someone renewed them had been in the 1400s. Better said, he had done it with the help of some of the villagers. He loved the stones, they weren’t just gray like the ones in London, they were reddish, earthly, reminded him of Camelot and her people. The houses had been build new just a few generations back. The christian church was the newest building. Merlin hated it.

The church didn’t fit in, didn’t fit to him or Arthur. Christianity was it that destroyed most druid folks and tortured and burned near all the sorcerers there were. He had lost many friends to them, probably as many as Gaius had lost to Uther.

He knew from London and other places he had went to that most churches were at the central of the city, like back in the time the citadel. Even though no one new, he still had all the rights to Gyldeorl. He had decided to put the church to the far left of – of everything, actually. There even was a little creek between it and the other parts, the houses and marketplace and shops.

In the center of Gyldeorl though was a little park, a garden. There were flower beds and benches, a little pond. Then something else. A brass statue.

It wasn’t perfect, Merlin had had a fight with the artist and in the end the man went and told him to build it himself – even though he had used some other words for it. So then he had used magic. The face was perfectly met, the hands too, the armor on the contrary not that much. Maybe because Merlin hadn’t thought about Arthur’s armor or of cleaning it in a long time in that exact century. Nowadays he did it more often. Not that he wasn’t able to hold it clean and orderly with his magic, but it eased the thoughts and reminded him that someday Arthur would need it when he came back. Probably not anymore, armors weren't really fought in in today’s time. But the thought of it was pleasant.

He hadn’t realized he had stopped in front of the statue until someone interrupted his thinking process.

“Mr. Holmes, it’s nice to see you again so soon.”

He blinked a few times, turned to Mrs. Thompson who worked at the bakery of Gyldeorl. The woman had a few pounds more on the scales then the last time he had seen her, being married seemed to get her well.

“Oh, come”, he smiled. “I’ve been away for nearly two month by now.”

“And still you came back. Missed the food or your king?”

He looked wary at her round face, then up to Arthur who’s mimic was set in the stoic mask of a warrior, “Both, I assume.”

“You sure want to go home first”, she mused, going on on her way. “I will send Mabel over with some food this evening.”

Merlin wasn’t sure why all the people in the village acted as if he belonged to their families. Maybe he did, somehow. Most of them lived here since centuries, some families since the beginning. But they didn’t know he had been here for this long. Officially, the house on the lake of Avalon had gone into the property of one Sherlock Holmes when the old keeper died. Officially, this Sherlock Holmes who was the old keepers nephew had died just a few weeks before Merlin arrived and therefor all his things went to his son, Merlin Holmes. Him.

It was kinda like a family name, Merlin. Always was someone living in the house by the name of Merlin. And maybe that was why the people felt as if he was family to them. Or they really had figured him out and just never told.

Even though of the cold weather the sun shone bright in the evening. It reflected on the brass and let Arthur’s hair shine as it always had.

Maybe they knew he was the sorcerer of the legends of king Arthur just because of this little things. Of the way he always stood in front of the statue, of the way he stared into the dark waters of the lake and jerked at every shine of gold or silver he saw reflected in it, of the way he – as all Merlins who ever lived in the house – always wore at least one clothing piece in pendragonred. Maybe a little showy.

He took a deep breath. The air here was different, reminded him more of the old times. There were barns nearby, horses, sheep and other animals. You could smell it right to that point, right to the middle of it all.

Maybe he should get a horse when Arthur got back, one day. Arthur would like that. And he would have to muck out the stables, what Arthur would like even more.

He chuckled, muttered “dollophead” under his breath, then went on to the house, to the lake. Shitty pond, it was.

The way was long, longer than walking from one end of the village to the other and over the little bridge to the church. Probably also longer than once walking around the whole village. But he liked it like this, liked how the only way to him was either through the forest or over the small path he had once build there with the same cobblestone that went through all of Gyldeorl’s streets. It had only been a trail for the longest time until he one day decided it was better to build a real way so the children who dared each other to come to his house, who even sometimes wanted to swim in the lake, wouldn’t trample on the plants and herbs growing all around.

_Merlin…_

When he finally reached the house the sun had already sunken so deep he couldn’t make her out through the trees. The sky lit up in warm orange and red tones. The house wasn’t build too near the lake, some thirty yards away, next to it a big old oak. Sure, Freya was by the Sidhe but that didn’t mean he had to trust them. He hadn’t trusted a magical being other than unicorns since way too long. It probably was a good thing.

Build out of the same stones as the citadel of Camelot the house gave a powerful emotion to itself. He himself wasn’t sure how he had done this.

He lit one of the torches outside so Mabel would find her way with ease. Maybe he would let it burn all night, just so Arthur knew someone was there, if he came back. He shook his head no. He would let it burn, not for Arthur but for anyone who got lost.

He opened the heavy wooden door to get inside. He had build the house pretty open on the inside, one room was the kitchen, dining room and study. He had nothing to hide, no one to hide it from. Then there was a room for him to sleep in, even though he hadn’t sleep there often. He preferred sleeping on the big couch or fell asleep on the armchair next to the fireplace, always waiting for Arthur to storm in through the door. Merlin never locked the house, knew he didn’t need to to protect himself from creatures or thieves. No kind of monster was able to get through the door or windows and human neither, not without his say so.

The stone floor was broken with some big furs, one right in front of the fireplace. Arthur’s room was to the right of it, the door a few steps away. In there were some of Arthur’s clothes, some of Merlin’s old ones too, the armor, a big bed.

The ring of Ygraine, of Arthur’s mother, hung around his neck; had been there since over a millennium. He knew it had belonged to Gwen, but after twenty years and all that had happened she didn’t even seem to want it. She had seen it in Merlin’s hands, just shaken her head, had told Merlin to keep it, to take care of it. Always with this look in her eyes.

He took his shoes off, his coat next, and put them away. With a swift of his hand the fire in the chimney burned bright and warmed the house, with another he enlightened all the candles.

_Merlin…_

He looked around but here he couldn’t see Arthur either. So he wasn’t back. But maybe he would be. Maybe he would come back soon. No.

Merlin didn’t want to bring his hopes up. He had done it once, twice, and it had always broken him. He didn’t want to break again but it had been decided the day he had met Arthur. Their destiny. He often asked himself if Kilgharrah or the druids had known from the beginning, if the Sidhe had known from the beginning.

He hadn’t been able to stay alive with Arthur, he hadn’t been able to die and go to Avalon with Arthur. As if it all was a big plan.

He sighted. He still stood in the entrance of the house, hadn’t moved one bid. He probably should start cleaning some, there were layer of dust on his books and some cobwebs at the high ceiling. Until Mabel would arrive he wouldn’t have food in the house and he didn’t feel like reading, didn’t feel like doing some experiments in his basement.

When Mable arrived he just started scrubbing the floor. He went to the door and opened it, allowed her to come in for the moment.

Mabel was sixteen and had started working for Mrs. Thompson just about a year ago, when Merlin had come in as the person he was now. She was his high, brown eyes and fair hair, freckles all over her face. And he was pretty sure Mrs. Thompsen set them up purposely. Mable didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Merlin”, she greeted him with one of her toothy smiles which made her look even more lovely and let Merlin feel worse than before. “I brought bread and cheese, also some wine from Mr. Hudd and Ms. Pines told me you should get some eggs and meat in the morning.”

He pressed for a smile, “Thank you, Mabel.”

She always reminded him of Gwen, so nice and beautiful, even though he knew Gwen’s soul didn’t live in her body. She would make a great friend, if Merlin would be interested in finding some. As it was, he wasn’t.

“Maybe you could stay another time”, he said and took the bags from her, putting the things away into special boxes he had enchanted so he would be able to keep the food longer. “As you see I still have some chores to do for today.”

“Oh”, she mumbled something, blushed. “That is no problem, I can help, if you want?”

He gulped, “Ah, no, thank you. I- Most is done already anyways and I can work faster on my own, so…” He didn’t know why it always got awkward with Mabel. She looked around, her dark eyes shimmering in the candlelight, reminding him of the last night he had sat in the bar with Lan- Inspector Staver. “I think it’s best you go home now or else your Mother will be worried.”

Her look hushed back to him, “Yes, sure. Good night, Merlin.”

“Goodnight.”

The moment she closed the door he renewed the magic on it so she wouldn’t be able to get in on her own. She had looked as if-

He realized he hadn’t let her in ever before. He hadn’t let anyone get that far inside ever before.

“Ah, shit.”

He went and finished scrubbing the whole floor of the big room. There wasn’t much else to do. He ate some bread and then sat on his big old armchair, his shirt buttoned down a few and the arms rolled up. Maybe he would drink a tea, for hot cocoa he would firstly need to get milk tomorrow.

_Merlin…_

Arthur would love cocoa, he was sure. And probably coffee too, but that stuff wouldn’t come into his house. Or probably it would if Arthur ever tried coffee, since he still was his king and king’s order…

_Merlin…_

He didn’t want to read anything and there wasn’t much to do right now anyway. His head hurt a little bit, but that would go away; he hoped. If not he still had some of Gaius recipes for elixiers against headaches. Nightmares wouldn’t bother him here either since he still had the strongest potions in stock. He would just lay back, sleep, wait. Hope.

The night was quiet, peaceful. Merlin didn’t wake up until dawn, which was actually pretty late for this time of year but not as late as the day before.

This time he hadn’t to take a train or get anywhere. He already was near Arthur, as near as possible. He drunk his morning tea standing in front of the lake, looking out on it for his king. Squirrels run from one tree to the next and he could make out a boar on the other side of the lake.

Hopefully it wouldn’t come over, wild boars were dangerous, he knew. They had become smaller over time but their fury had stayed.

He laid a small peace of honey biscuit in front of the water, spoke a few words to the Sidhe, then went back to his house to put the cup aside.

His whole day was planed out already. He would go visit Ms. Pines to get eggs, milk and some meat. He would also go to the bakery to get some sweet loafs for later. Afterwards he would visit the beehive he knew was somewhere near the creek. And at one point he would probably come to a stop in front of the statue of Arthur and forget to walk past, get lost in his thoughts. Everything as always.

He took a basket and started walking, all the while collecting some of the herbs still alive at this time of year. It was cold and would only get colder, he knew, and then he would need what he could get. Sure there were still some dried ones in his cellar but he favored them fresh.

Merlin was happy to have kept Gaius’ recipes and most of the books he could get over here. He just wished he had paid more attention when Gaius had tried to teach him. Making potions wasn’t as easy as it always had seemed with Gaius and Merlin still wasn’t as good as his teacher even though he had over a thousand years on him.

When he came to Mrs. Thompson’s bakery it had started to rain in fast little droplets. He opened the door into a warm and good smelling home. Mabel stood at the counter, talking to an older man in black clothing and a black hat. His shoulders were wet so he hadn’t been in here long enough to avoid the rain. Dark brown hair curled at his nape. Merlin hadn’t seen him before, probably the pastor. He let out a silent sight.

When Mabel noticed him her smile widened, “Merlin, come over! This is Father Jonas, he just arrived yesterday.”

Closing his eyes he wished he could vanish without it being too obvious but then smiled and walked over.

“Father, this is Merlin Holmes. He lives in the mansion near the lake. His great uncle owned the valley and now it belongs to him.”

“Mansion”, Merlin asked absently while he inspected the man in front of him.

Father Jonas had a thin smile and shining eyes, a hawk’s nose. His hair already started to gray on the sides. He reminded Merlin a little bit of Uther. Merlin didn’t like him, but maybe it was just because he belonged to that damn church he couldn’t deny the people living in Gyldeorl. When they wanted a church they should get it, but he wouldn’t care about it.

“I would like some sweet loafs, Mabel. Do you have small ones”, he turned to her, ignoring the unpleasant man.

She gave him a questioning look, her eyebrow flying high like Gaius’, but nodded, “How many do you want?”

“Not too much”, he put his basket on the counter and unfold the fabric he had taken with him. “It’s better to eat them fresh and not still nibble on the sames for the next few days.”

“You’re lucky Mrs. Thompson knows you, then”, her smile went sneaky. “She made five just for you. And she also wanted me to give you this.” She pushed over a little cake.

A smile hushed over his face even though he wanted to scroll. It was the same cake she had always made him when he had been his old self. This probably was a sign she really knew. It didn’t matter as long as it wouldn’t endanger Arthur and as it seemed Mrs. Thompson had a soft spot for him.

“Tell her my thanks and I will return this favor”, he put the fresh bread into his basket, pulled the cover over it and then shoved the first piece of cake down his throat. With a nod he said goodbye to Mabel, then shortly to the Father too. “Need to get some eggs and stuff”, he mumbled while running out.

Next time he would make sure the pastor wouldn’t be there when he went into a shop.

He got everything he needed and was following the creek to the beehive afterwards. Luckily he had went past Arthur’s statue with just a few minutes pause. Just a few moments of thoughts. He pulled out the bottles he had taken with him.

It was possible to buy honey by beekeepers nowadays but he liked the excitement of stealing the honey out of a wild nest. It felt more like home, the same as collecting the herbs himself made him feel connected to the whole and to Gaius. So the only times he bought these things by other people were when he was in London and hadn’t the opportunity to get them himself but needed them.

Getting the honey wasn’t easy but his magic helped there. While he distracted the bees still flying around with some strong smelling flowers he also let his magic pour some gallons of dark golden honey into the bottles. When finished he put them into his basket and finally went back the way to the village, unfortunately right along the church and bridge on which the pastor stood.

“So we see again”, the man smiled, this time trying for something warmer. “You went away pretty quickly, Mr. Holmes. I didn’t even had the time to introduce myself to you.”

Merlin rolled his eyes inconspicuous, “As I said before, I had some things to get to. If you would-”

“Not so fast”, the pastor grabbed Merlin’s shoulder to stop him. “I heard you were a scholar man, studying in London. How comes you stay in a little village like this.”

Had Merlin already told he hated this man? He hated him.

“Don’t you think people can like the fresh air and silence of a place like this”, he asked. “If you would excuse me, _now_ , I have an appointment.”

_Merlin!_

He knew Father Jonas had felt his twitching without looking into the man’s face. It didn’t matter. Arthur seemed to need him.

“I’m sure we will see again”, the Father smiled.

Merlin watched him for a moment, wary. Something was up there and it wasn’t anything good. But he hadn’t the time to worry about it now.

“Sure”, he said therefor, making his way back to the village.

It already was late afternoon when he finally arrived at home. On his way he had met the owner of The Golden Sun. The tavern’s name hadn’t been changed since the village was build, he had named it himself. It were the little reminders, the feeling he got when he went by and read the name, thought of Camelot and his friends, thought of the time he had been there, of Gwen and Lancelot and Gawain, Percival, Leon, Elyan and all the others. Arthur…

He put the food away except of the sweat loafs. He would eat them soon, maybe with some honey or jam. A hot chocolate would be great to it, he thought, rummaging in his stocks. A few seconds later it knocked on his door.

“Coming”, he called out, heaving the box full of cocoa down on his worktable.

When he opened the door the young Peter Gaber stood in front of him. He was only ten but fast as a rabbit. His father owned the post office and the boy brought messages or telegrams to the people. Merlin normally didn’t get anything so he was surprised to say the least.

“Got a telegram for you, Sir”, the boy grinned.

Merlin took the paper out of the small hand and flipped over some shiny coins, “You can keep the change. Stay a moment, maybe I need to send something back.”

It was a message by Inspector Staver. They hadn’t found any reason of death on the man they had found but the next night there was a new victim. Woman, poor and still pretty young. Same as the man they hadn’t found a reason of death. It seemed rather suspicious. Merlin thought of the tingle of magic he had felt in the rain that night.

Fast he compiled a message back and handed it to the boy, “Send this back to Inspector Staver of Scotland Yard. It is important it reaches him as soon as possible and let me know if he sends something back.”

Peter nodded and was up and away in an instant.

Merlin wasn’t sure yet but all of it seemed to indicate a sorcerer as perpetrator. Sure, there was the possibility for a poison or maybe they were choked to death without any sings of it, that was possible. But even then he had to be careful because of whatever he had felt in the rain. The same he had told Staver. Something was wrong and they had to take care of what or whoever it was.

He took a long breath, tried to remember this was something happening back in London and not in Gyldeorl. He didn’t have to worry about the people here.

Merlin went over and filled a cup with some spoons of cocoa and milk, then heated it in his hands. Cocoa was good to calm down. He also took the sweet loafs and put them on the small table next to his armchair, sat down and cuddled into the old blanket he had laid down over it.

All this things would go over. And the good thing was he hadn’t to worry about Arthur, even though he wished Arthur was here. He also wished Gaius was there so he could ask him for help. Sometimes he even wished the old stupid dragon would be there. But he was all alone, even though now Lanc- Staver knew about it.

Lancelot Staver. He chuckled.

Maybe it wouldn’t end that bad. And even if, he could simply stay in here until a next life, until whichever sorcerer or monster was running around had died. He had all the time.

He woke up with a startle when it knocked at his door, again and again and again, loud. Rubbing his eyes he stood up, slinging the blanket around himself.

“Coming, coming”, he answered as soon as he found his voice again.

He stumbled over to the door, nearly falling over one of the furs. Once more yawning into his hands he opened the door, looking back in Peter Gaber’s face.

“You told me to hurry”, the boy said and shoved the new message into his hands.

Merlin grumbled, looked at the watch. He hadn’t been asleep for even an hour. He wasn’t sure what new Staver would have to tell him after such a short time.

He gave some more money to the boy and went to the fireplace to get some bread while reading. He still hadn’t eaten any of it. His hot cocoa was cold by now but that wasn’t a problem for him.

A connection was possible, Staver wrote. So he believed Merlin could be right. He wrote some more about the victims, then bate Merlin to return as soon as was possible for him.

Merlin understood why Staver asked this of him, but he wouldn’t return immediately, the man had to understand. Merlin’s first responsibility was Arthur, be he in Avalon or not. That’s what he wrote back. He gave the message to Peter.

“See you get this back before tomorrow”, he said before wishing the boy a good evening.

He still felt exhausted from being woken up so suddenly but it wasn’t the time to sleep now. Maybe he would be able to find something about the rain or deaths in one of his books.

_Merlin…_

He wiped a hand over his face, tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. This would be a long night. Maybe a few long nights, since he had to work all by himself.

The night went on and on and in the morning he hadn’t found anything significant. The day wasn’t eventful at all, most of the time he had sat on the fire and read more books. Peter had come by once with a new telegram that had told him to take his time but try to find answers. As if he didn’t try. In the evening he fell asleep, a book still open in his lap.

_Merlin!_

He shook awake from Arthur’s voice; or maybe it had been the rumbling in front of his door. He sprung up and run over. He hadn’t lighten any candles since it hadn’t been dark enough to need any when he had fallen asleep, only the fire in the chimney lightened up the room. With a swoosh most of the candles came back to life and lit up the room and through the windows into his front yard; if someone could call a light opening before the woods went on their front yard.

Something outside clattered and then there was a groan. Merlin new this sounds, he was sure. But that wasn’t possible.

With momentum he tore the door open – and came to an abrupt stop.

Right there, in his maybe front yard, stood Arthur Pendragon in parts of his armor, his sword in hand and the golden hair dark from the wetness of lake water. He shivered, understandably, it had started to freeze in the night.

Merlin could just stand there and stare.

Arthur watched him wary, examined his house from his point of view and then took a step forward. Thick droplets were running down his face as if he had come out of the water just seconds ago. He probably had, Merlin reminded himself. His cape was gone as were parts of his armor, Merlin could make some out on the ground. He must have come back _in_ the lake, _in_ the water, and swam out by himself, in at least 80 pounds of armor.

Arthur was _back_.

The next moment he sat on the floor. His legs had given out under him; he had probably scraped his kneecaps and torn his trousers on the stone ground. His eyes prickled, hurt. He was going to cry. He couldn’t cry, the Sidhe would see and take Arthur away again.

Arthur had come near but didn’t say anything. Maybe he would kill Merlin, now that he was well and he still knew he was a sorcerer, had always been a sorcerer. The sword still in Arthur’s hand, the king came up the first step.

Then, “Merlin?”

That was the moment the dams broke. Merlin released a sobbed “Arthur” and started crying. It felt as if he hadn’t cried in all the time he had waited, even though he knew he had, had sometimes for weeks not come out to anyone because he had cried alone in his damned house.

The sword fell chattering to the ground, Arthur took the last two steps and knelt down, leaned his forehead against Merlin’s.

Merlin tried to breath, just breath again. Filled his lounges with the smell of dirty water, wet metal and Arthur. Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. Just Arthur. Arthur was back. Back, alive, here, at his side. Together.

“Arthur, I-”, he couldn’t talk, didn’t get anything right out of his mouth.

Arthur’s hand grabbed the back of his neck, the leather glove was damp on Merlin’s skin. They rocked back and forth, soft, easily. Merlin hadn’t felt that safe in a long time, that much as if he belonged somewhere.

He tried to open his eyes, tried to look at Arthur, make sure he was there and wouldn’t vanish again. The Sidhe couldn’t do something like that, he was sure, but there was still the fear.

Arthur’s eyes were blue and green, like they always had been. He couldn’t really make them out in the poor light of the candles he had only lit inside of his house. _Just there_ , he realized and understood with this why Arthur hadn’t taken down the sword when he had seen him, probably hadn’t even realized Merlin wasn’t wearing a tunic or something that felt scratchy like his old clothing.

He didn’t want to lose this moment, wished he could stay like this for a much longer time, maybe long into the morning, when the sun already went up into the sky and the birds which still stayed in Britain over the cold months would start singing. On the other hand he knew Arthur needed a warm bath and dry cloth, a hot tea, food. Much food. He was probably hungry after being dead for so many centuries. Or maybe he hadn’t felt any hunger, didn’t even feel it now, here on the threshold of their home.

“Merlin”, Arthur said careful, way calmer then Merlin had ever seen him. “Don’t you think we need to go inside?”

Merlin nodded and released himself from Arthur, even if just reluctantly, “You’re right.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I actually wanted to upload earlier but some stuff got in the way but I also bought a new phone so I think it's alright. Again I hope if there are any errors you're gonna tell me so I can improve my english skills. Have fun!

Arthur observed Merlin from the entrance. He hadn’t dared to come in any steps more before he wasn’t out of this dripping armor. He felt as if the clothing he wore underneath were forged to his body, making it impossible to move without problems.

The house was big, high cellars, reminded him a little bit of the citadel even though he didn’t know why. At least it was warm. It also reminded him a bid of Hunith’s house in Ealdor, everything in one room, but he could make out three doors so there were others too. One room probably belonged to Merlin, the two others… He thought maybe Merlin had gotten himself a wife after the time Arthur was – away. It wasn’t wrong. Arthur wasn’t sure how long he had been gone, Merlin didn’t seem to have changed much but it also could have been the light.

His servant’s hair had gotten longer, curled around his face and partly covered this hilarious ears. Actually, Arthur liked the ears. They were a part of Merlin. But he would never tell the other man, otherwise he might have to put him in the dungeons. If he still had dungeons. He asked silently why Merlin was living here, at the lake, anyway when he could have stayed in Camelot.

Merlin run around and put things in a white cup, way thinner than any cup Arthur had seen before. Then he walked over to one of the doors, went in but didn’t close it. Arthur could make out white ground and walls that looked like marble but surely weren’t. Marble was a rare stone and even in Camelot it wasn’t seen often. He heard water, wanted to go in and look just what this room was. But he still was in most of his armor and all he had gotten off himself lay on the floor already. He also didn’t want to wet the furs distributed over the whole room.

Arthur didn’t dare to speak, or else Merlin would look at him, look at him with this expression in his eyes as if Arthur was a wonder and the best thing Merlin had seen in a way too long time. He wasn’t sure what it let him feel.

Instead he waited, hoped Merlin would realize he needed help without them to have eye contact. Shortly, he didn’t and Arthur would freeze to death because his manservant was just so unbelievably inattentive.

He cleared his throat when Merlin started walking over to him with what seemed to be tea, even though the cup still looked suspicious to Arthur. Merlin looked up and Arthur could see when the mistake hit the man, his eyes widening and cheeks growing red.

“Sorry, sorry”, Merlin mumbled, put the cup aside and helped Arthur out of the remaining armor and chloths. “Just forgot how you aren’t able to do anything by yourself, Sire.”

The metal chattered on the floor, afterwards his underclothes. He flinched by Merlin’s careless behavior, looked at first at one of the still closed doors, then at the other.

“Do you want to wake the whole house”, he asked while Merlin untied the lace of his trousers.

Puzzled Merlin followed his gaze to at first the right, then the left door, then he seemed to finally understand Arthur’s words.

“There isn’t anyone else here”, he rubbed his neck. “Only you and me. The left room’s mine, the other-” Merlin stopped, made a face. “The other is for you.”

Arthur looked at him, surprised. He hadn’t thought Merlin would let them have a house build just for the two of them. It reminded him of something he had told Gwen once, how he would like to live on a farm with no one else and no one recognizing him as who he was, only Merlin there to take care of everything. And maybe also because they were friends, because he liked having him around.

But this brought him back to something he didn’t really want to examine. When Merlin had build a room for him too, how long had he been gone? How long had he been- What was with all their friends? Merlin’s mother? Gaius? Guinevere?

Taking a deep breath he pointed to the third door, the one with the marble floor and walls, “And what’s in there?”

“Bathroom”, Merlin muttered, went and took the cup back into his hands. “I made you some tea with honey and you also need to take a bath, we don’t want you to get ill so soon, do we?”

Arthur took another deep breath. He needed to know now long he had been gone before he did anything else, but he wasn’t sure Merlin would be ready to tell him. Maybe he himself wasn’t ready either, but he was the king. He needed to be ready for things like this. Not quiet things like this – how often did someone die and come back – but for Arthur himself it was something he should have been prepared for.

He rubbed through his face, tried to shove the hair out of his eyes, which wasn’t as easy now that they had partly dried.

“Merlin-”

Merlin looked at him as if he was going to cry again. He was red around eyes and nose and even though he obviously had tried to wash his face there were still tracks of tears on his cheeks. Arthur bit his lip, wrinkled his nose shortly.

“I know this isn’t easy”, he began, “but you need to tell me some things now. Right now. It doesn’t matter if I don’t want to hear them or you don’t want to tell…” He strayed off. His eyes hadn’t found a point to stay on while he was talking and he didn’t want to look at Merlin, didn’t want to see the pain he had seen.

All this couldn’t be real. He had died. Dead man didn’t come back without a spell and when it was about the dead it couldn’t be a good one. But here he was and he knew Merlin wouldn’t do such a thing, not for poor reasons. Sure, this little blue thingies had said he would come back, once and future king, destiny, yadda yadda. But that were magic creatures.

Merlin, who had created one of Arthur’s dreams without even knowing of it, wouldn’t bring him back from the death when it were through something bad or with ill intentions. And if he would have, he would have done it in exchange of his own happiness, the fool. Arthur was at least sure of this.

When he found Merlin’s eyes he wished he hadn’t, neither asked nor looked at him. He looked so sorry, the stormy blue dull. His jaw worked as if he was going to chew herbs for Gaius to try the effects.

He took the cup out of Merlin’s hands before they could break the thin material. Merlin’s knuckles came out white from the tension, sinews tensed up his whole arm, as Arthur could feel through the fine fabric of Merlin’s tunic when he grabbed the man’s arm.

He hadn’t felt nor seen something like this ever before. It must have been a long time he had been gone. But Merlin looked so young, even younger then the last time he had seen him, he realized. Maybe it was just the hair, maybe it was the broken way Merlin looked. Or maybe it wasn’t.

He remembered how Merlin had told him about the old sorcerer that had helped them once, maybe twice, which had been, not really surprising as Arthur thought, Merlin himself. Maybe he was able to make himself look younger too. But then how old were Merlin really?

“Maybe you should go take a bath first”, Merlin breathed out.

Arthur strengthened his grip around Merlin’s arm, tried to keep the eye contact. He couldn’t let Merlin go like this, even just for a moment. He felt as if it was bad, really bad. Maybe even worse. Merlin gave him a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes, didn’t convince Arthur at all.

Merlin still looked the same, lanky and thin, less muscled as the last time. He actually looked pretty much the same as when they first met, maybe a little older. But for sure he wasn’t the same man anymore. It hurt to see him like this, see him being broken in a way nearly similar to his father, as if he had lost everything he had loved.

Arthur’s breath hitched. That’s what it was. He understood and wished he never had. All his friends, all his loved ones, they were gone.

He pulled on Merlin, mumbled “Come on”, pulled him into a hug. Merlin didn’t move at first. They hadn’t had many real hugs, they hadn’t had many moments like this, mainly because they had both been proud and stupid back then. Now it only took a few seconds and Merlin wrapped himself around Arthur as if they did this daily and Arthur considered if Merlin might need it every day. If he maybe could hold his friend like this for a few minutes of each single day to make him feel better, and also to make Arthur feel better.

“Are all of them-”, he started the question but didn’t know how to end it. It was the same as with himself. How did you say you have been away for a long time, have been gone and felt nothing, didn’t even realize the world went on, but then came back. It wasn’t real death, even if he was sure he really had died. It was more like sleep. But the others probably wouldn’t come back as he had.

Merlin’s nod was hectic, “You clotpole have been away for a way too long time.”

“Clotpole”, he muttered, giving Merlin a light claps against the back of his head.

Merlin chuckled, something that made Arthur happy. They had lost all their friends. He wasn’t sure if it would have been simpler to lose them over time, like Merlin, or all at once. But now they had each other, at least each other.

He felt as if he should rage and scream to the gods, ask what rights they had to take away his life and friends from him, but he was sure Merlin had done this more than enough, maybe even infuriated them.

Arthur shoved his face against Merlin’s head, inhaled his scent and was glad whatever sissy soap Merlin was using had worn off enough for him to smell just Merlin. Finally one thing that smelled like home. Then he let go of his servant, or probably now former servant, as he wasn’t king of Camelot anymore. He couldn’t be when all their friends were gone. It meant either Camelot had fallen or it had been such a long time there was a new king.

“Maybe you’re right and we should wait until morning to talk about all this”, he said, patted him on the shoulder and started walking over to the _bathroom_ , as Merlin had called it.

He tried his best to not think about Gwen, about his knights, about Gaius, and when he arrived at the through candles lightened room it wasn’t even that complicated. The creme stone reflected the light nearly like a mirror and paved the whole room. On one side was a latrine, but it was made out of a golden metal, same as a small washbasin on the wall right next to it. Over the basin was a real mirror, more clear than any he had seen before, and big. He went near, looked at the point where Mordred’s sword had sliced him open, but there was nothing, not even a scar.

Then he detected the tub. It was made out of the same metal as the loo and basin, a small table stood next to it with bath salt and soap on it. He was surprised the water was still steaming, even though he had been outside with Merlin for a while. Maybe it was his magic or it was because of the metal and it was able to save the heat, let it stay hot longer somehow. On one end of the tub was a knob and a small tube whose head looked into the water as if it was about to jump in. The same machinery was on the basin, he now realized.

He would need to ask Merlin later what it was for.

He nearly let his trousers drop to the ground and lay there without further notice but then he saw the big basket next to the tub and knew Merlin would probably be proud of him if he had so much thought as to put his dirty cloth in there instead of on the floor.

The bath was soothing and nearly let him fall asleep, hadn’t Merlin come in after a while to bring him new clothes. He also brought a tripod with him and before Arthur could say something Merlin was scrubbing his back.

It nearly felt like home when he closed his eyes, just taking in the feeling of Merlin’s hands and the splash of water. The smell was different and the reverberation in the near empty room, but it was still good. He splashed water over his head, felt how Merlin reheated it with magic. When he thought about it he wished he had known it longer, wished he had had the time to have lived with it. Now was the time, but it also wasn’t a time where he could change the law so Merlin could use his magic freely. He was sure Guinevere had agreed, maybe she had even done it in her time as Queen. A smile hushed over his face. Who knew if Guinevere hadn’t known about Merlin’s magic long before him, she was such an intelligent woman. Had been, he corrected himself. But just because Gwen could have changed the law didn’t mean whatever was going on outside now was the same.

He looked around when Merlin stopped his work. His face was set in a stoic mask Arthur didn’t like. It didn’t fit Merlin at all, made him look a lot more like a decent servant than himself.

“Arthur”, he said, the word let a small smile play around his lips which vanished after a second, “I know you probably think it has been, I don’t know, a few hundred years. But whatever you think, it was more. So much has changed, so much happened, and I couldn’t do anything against it. I-” Merlin took a breath. “I lost. Myself, everyone, everything. We don’t really have anything. We have money, have this house, but nothing else. I’m sorry I can’t give anything more to you. I’m sorry I-”

Arthur shook his head, not in denial, not even in sorrow, “Merlin, you don’t need to be sorry for anything. It isn’t your fault. You-”

“If I would have protected you right we wouldn’t be here now!”

“How comes you’re still such an idiot”, Arthur stood up and grabbed a towel, felt the soft fabric before he slung it around his hips. “It doesn’t matter and I’m sure you did all that was possible to do for you in that moment. You aren’t perfect, Merlin, but that doesn’t mean you are responsible.”

“It isn’t just about your-”, Merlin jumped up but didn’t finish the sentence. Arthur understood why, felt the shudder the same way as Merlin did. “Camelot is gone, your crown is gone. There is no Albion, Arthur, there is no magic living free everywhere, no golden prize for who was able to stay alive. I know you didn’t get anything either, but what I got… You don’t want to know.”

He knew Merlin himself thought he had said too much in his rage but Arthur was relieved there seemed to still be something in his friend, even though it seemed to mostly be pain and hurt. He was also happy to have gotten at least some information before he had to wait until dawn.

Merlin had turned away, looked as if he was about to jump out of the room and the house as soon as he could. He had to do something to keep him there, inside.

“Listen”, he climbed over the tub’s wall on another towel Merlin had laid out for him. “We’re going to go to bed now, my bed, and you will stay.” He saw Merlin’s face flush but didn’t really understand why. Merlin had slept next to his bed a whole lot back in Camelot, probably even more than he had known, and they had always slept next to each other when they were on a hunt or on patrol. His last night before the fight at Camlann he had slept next to Merlin too. “Then we will talk tomorrow, at breakfast.”

Merlin nodded, sighted, “If you wish so, Sire.”

“I do.”

In the morning he woke warm and cuddled into a big blanked and Merlin. Well, Merlin hadn’t been part of the plan but the sorcerer hadn’t slept peaceful until Arthur had at least one hand on his shoulder, as if he sensed Arthur’s presence. Maybe his magic really did.

He rolled out of the embrace, least Merlin saw what they had done all night – or not all night, since the moon had already hung low when he had just reached the house. He stretched out, tensed his muscles and let them relax again for some time.

He looked over at Merlin. The man hadn’t changed his cloth before he had come into Arthur’s bed – probably because Arthur hadn’t let him go anywhere else before they fell asleep. He wasn’t sure why Merlin hadn’t at least put off his tunic, even though he had to admit it was really soft. It reminded him of some of Gwen’s or Morgana’s dresses, like velvet. On the other hand it was way too warm to sleep with a top on.

He rolled from the bed, coming down on smooth fur, and went out of the room. He wouldn’t wait for Merlin to wake up, even though he normally would. He wasn’t so stupid as not to know how to get some food himself, he just had to find out where Merlin had what stored away.

Merlin found him a while later, standing puzzled in front of the racks. Arthur looked over as Merlin tried to hide his yawn behind his elbow, barefoot and hair tousled. Merlin rubbed some saliva from the side of his mouth.

“Where do you keep the meat, _Mer_ lin”, he asked as he opened another little package in which he found some cheese. At least something.

“Arthur”, Merlin sounded surprised.

Arthur wasn’t sure if Merlin had believed it all to be a dream. He shouldn’t have gone outside before Merlin awoke, he realized. Now there was some happiness in his blue eyes, but he could imagine the face he must have made waking up and finding no one else there. Arthur made a grim face as he remembered the past night but Merlin seemed to read it as something else.

“I’ll make breakfast, go sit down”, he came over and shoved him away like a naughty boy who had tried to steal some tarts.

Arthur grumbled only, tousled through Merlin’s longer hair and went off. He liked the hair like that, he realized. Sure, it let Merlin look less like his old self and way younger than he was – he wasn’t sure if he should laugh about this; Merlin had told him it had been wide more then a few hundred years – it also made him look more handsome and cute. There would finally be woman looking at him. The thought made him feel wary, he didn’t know why.

Probably the hunger.

He looked at his still damp armor lying on the floor. He probably wouldn’t need it anymore, the times sure had advanced. But he sure as heck would keep his sword. He looked around, his gaze wandering all over the ground of the big room, then he realized he had let it fall when he had seen Merlin, recognized him. Sighting he went to the door, Merlin gave him a cautious look but didn’t say anything.

“Just getting my sword”, he informed him though, “and probably what I can find of my armor lying around.”

He looked at his boots, way too wet to wear. He asked himself if Merlin could dry them by magic too; probably. But Merlin wasn’t his servant anymore, he remembered. He also would have better things to do with his magic.

Since he hadn’t bothered with other clothing than the trousers he had slept in yet he would simply go out like this. It wasn’t as if there were other people running around in the forest. He hadn’t seen any other lights when he had come out of the lake and only found the house thanks to the smoke of the fireplace.

He opened the wooden door with momentum and found himself face to face with a young girl, too young for Merlin, anyway.

Her face was full of cute little freckles which reminded him a little of Gwen, as did her eyes, but her hair was a light reddish blond. Her hand was raised as if she had been about to knock, what would only make sense, and the smile in her face fell and changed in an embarrassed expression, her face growing the color of her hair.

Arthur looked down on himself for a moment, nudged up one shoulder as if asking himself a question, “Good morning, my Lady.” The blush deepened and a light giggle came out of her mouth. “How may I help you? Did you want Merlin?”

“Ehm, yes, I-”

“Good morning, Mabel”, Merlin interrupted whatever she was about to stammer out. “What are you doing here?” He went up to them, looked a little displeased at the way Mabel was starring back and forth between Arthur and him.

Arthur cleared his throat what seemed to bring her back to them.

“Mrs. Thompsen send me to bring these to you”, she held out a small bag that smelled delicious, but before Arthur could snap it away Merlin had it in his hands and held it away from him. Arthur sulked. “And then there was a telegram for you, came in right this morning. Peter gave it to me since I was on the way anyway.”

Arthur hadn’t heard the word before, so it was something new. He really wanted to know what, but stealing the food from behind Merlin’s back while he read was more important at the moment. He already had a hand down the bag when Merlin swayed it away, his shoulders tense. “Another one”, he mumbled and went over to one of the two big armchairs to sit down and write something on a piece of paper. A telegram had to be some kind of message, then.

He turned around, still musing what exactly Merlin had gotten there, when he came face to face with Mabel once more.

“Hello”, she smiled a smile sweet as honey. “I’m Mabel.”

He already knew that, now, but he didn’t want to be impolite so he bowed slightly what had her giggle again, “My name is Arthur. Pleased to meet you.”

“Like the king”, she asked grinning.

Arthur wasn’t sure if with _the king_ she meant him or another king that was ruling right now. On the other hand it would be a wish for any king to stay in the head of the people for a time as long as Merlin said it had been. Then there was the fact that Merlin was there, over all this time, so who knew if she didn’t really mean him.

“Just like him”, he answered and gave her a wink.

“So”, she gave a small smile, “then Merlin is your knight, yes?”

He snorted softly, looked back at his friend who had started writing frantically, “Something like that, sure.”

“Then it would really make me into a lady”, she sighted dreamily.

His head turned around fast as an arrow but she didn’t even realized it, just standing right before the threshold and starring at his manservant. He crossed his arms. Surely _not_. She was way too young to be courted by Merlin and even if he was courting her, he was doing really bad work letting her stand in front of the door while he did whatever.

“Don’t you have any work to do”, he asked pertly.

She looked at him offended but that was the moment Merlin decided to come back to them. He ruffled some through his own hair, then let it be as he saw their faces.

“Please bring this to Mr. Gaber, it has to be sent as soon as possible”, he handed over a paper, something written on it. “Seems I can’t stay as long as I wanted to. Thanks again.” With that he gave some shiny coins to Mabel who just looked at him with a wide grin and went her way.

“What happened about treating all people with respect”, Merlin questioned him. “Mabel hasn’t done anything and you act as if she sullied your last tunic – which you aren’t wearing, as I might note.”

Arthur looked at him, scrunched his nose, “Isn’t she a bit too young for you to court her? I’m sure you could get someone who’s at least out of their parents chambers when you make an afford.”

Now Merlin was the one who made a face and Arthur was happy to have been right; Merlin wasn’t making advances to the poor lass.

“She likes me”, Merlin said, shrugging. “She will get over it and marry someone, maybe out of the village, or go away to London or wherever her feet bring her.”

“London”, Arthur sayed the word, felt it out. “And what village are we talking about?”

Sighting Merlin turned around and went back to the bag he had gotten, “I will tell you while we eat breakfast.”

In the bag was sweet loaf and cake. Arthur loved whoever had been the baker. It tasted even better than it smelled. They had honey and jam, something Merlin called hot cocoa, meat and cheese. It was a breakfast he hadn’t had in a while. On their way to the fight there was only rabbits or birds, some old bread and water. But he didn’t let himself be distracted with what he still had to hear.

“The village”, he asked. “What about that?”

Merlin looked around for a while, then he said, “I built it. Same as this house.”

“With magic?” Arthur hadn’t expected Merlin to jump at the word. He grabbed the man’s wrist, “It’s alright, Merlin. Everything is fine.”

Merlin nodded, “Right.” He took a big sip of his cocoa before he started again. “The name’s Gyldeorl.”

Arthur snorted, golden warrior. Merlin blushed.

“There might be”, he continued, “might be a statue of a king named Arthur right in the middle of the city, right in the little park.”

Now it was on Arthur to blush, “You build me a statue?” He wished he had something funny to say about it, but he didn’t.

Nodding, Merlin said, “There’s a tavern called _The Golden Sun_ too, so don’t take it personal.” That somehow hurt. “Some of the families came from Camelot, even though they don’t know that anymore, not nowadays. Others were part of the druids or from somewhere else in Albion. Great Britain, that’s what they call it today.”

“The name is stupid”, Arthur interjected even though he knew he couldn’t do anything against it.

“Maybe you like England better, then”, Merlin gave a short smile. “I don’t really want to say it, how long it has been. Sometimes I forget – not you or Camelot or time in general – I just… forget.”

Arthur nodded, let his gaze wander around on the table. It was something he had seen by other man coming out of war and having lost all their friends, their family too. For a moment he asked himself why he didn’t want to forget, not yet. Maybe it would come to him, maybe he wasn’t really here yet, or maybe it was because he had already welcome death and said his goodbyes.

“It’s been rough years, mostly”, Merlin continued, “for Camelot, Albion. It’s- It has been” Merlin licked his lips, Arthur followed the movement. “one thousand and four hundred years, a little more or less. I wasn’t really present for the first twenty and in between-”

Arthur knew Merlin was still talking. He could see the man’s lips move, his free hand fly around in whatever he was describing. Merlin had been serious when he had told him it had been much more then a few hundred years, but this… Arthur wasn’t sure how to take this.

Merlin was still absorbed in his story, probably something that Arthur should listen to but couldn’t. He bit the inside of his cheek, tried to concentrate at the here and now. He already had known he was a dead man, a few thousand years more weren’t important. But he didn’t know what he was supposed to do in a time like this, didn’t know if they even still needed a king, a knight. Probably not. What was he doing here, then?

He didn’t realize Merlin had stopped talking until Merlin’s arm moved and brought the other’s grip around his wrist too, squeezing it. Arthur looked up in Merlin’s sad face. He remembered the time Merlin hadn’t smiled in three days and didn’t even tell him why, even after he had asked. But this time Merlin would tell him, tell him everything and more, and he himself would feel the sorrow and grieve too.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this right now”, Merlin whispered, shoving his still filled plate aside. “I mean, we still have time, much time.”

Arthur wanted to agree but knew he shouldn’t. In the end he asked, “What did this telegram say? What is London?”

 _Tell me about today, Merlin_ , he thought, _Tell me about the life you now have,_ we _now have._

“London is the capitol of England, a big city, bigger than Camelot ever was. There live so many people, Arthur, so many children on the streets. But there’s always light, always noises; you can’t see the stars at night, not many. And it stinks. It’s a different smell, not just like the lower town or the stables. They have machinery, big towers were comes out dark clouds of the coal and whatever else they burn there. But you can also get so much, see so much. There is a university were I often work in, do projects I wouldn’t be able to do here. And so many books, so much knowledge, Arthur. I’m sure you would like it, from time to time.”

Arthur mused at the place Merlin described. He was sure the way to it would be long, probably a few days on horseback, something Merlin never really habituated to.

“Where is it”, he asked, just to make sure, but he couldn’t imagine the city to be near anywhere of them.

“Do you remember the ruins of Londinium”, he liked how Merlin’s eyebrows shot up, resembling the man he had once known. “I still don’t know why they build the capitol at that place, maybe because it is easy to reach through the sea and the country.”

Arthur knew Londinium. He had gone there once, when he was about fourteen winter old, by himself to proof his father he was grown up enough for everything there was. It had been a stupid decision, Angles and Saxon had hunted him down nearly the whole way back, but he was young and what he couldn’t make up with experience he made up with spirit and his hard skull, literally. He snorted.

Merlin gave him a light push, “What is it?”

“Nothing”, his smile was gentle. “Just a memory.”

They went out afterwards. Arthur still didn’t know what exactly a telegram was and what message Merlin had gotten, but at least he felt as if he would understand this world a little more.

He had learned there still was a royal family even though their origins weren’t in Albion. There were big things that worked with coal, which were like carriages but way bigger, way louder and faster than every horse he knew. There were libraries bigger than the house they lived in and a university was a place to learn things out of these books or through experiments, stuff like Gaius had done in his physician’s rooms.

And then there was the fact that magic wasn’t common, that sorcerers weren’t walking around freely but also weren’t hold in dungeons or burned. Many people didn’t even seem to believe in sorcerers. Arthur hadn’t asked why, hadn’t asked why Merlin’s expression got so, so sad when he had told him there weren’t any druids living in the woods, also no druids living in the village or London.

Instead Merlin was now talking about procuring some milk for the coming day, getting some new clothing for Arthur and seeing if his message had arrived and also if there was a new one.

They walked through the forest as they always had, just the two of them. The trees stood high and mighty, their barks rough, colorful leaves on the ground and so many herbs and shrubs that once had owned berries but were empty now, at this cold time of year.

 _It should have ended like this_ , Arthur thought, looked over to Merlin who was kneeling down to get some herbs Arthur had seen Gaius use for a sleeping trunk. It should have ended with the two of them, running through the woods as they had done from the very beginning. And somehow it had. Not in their time, not in Arthur’s time, but here they were. Together like always.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would have uploaded sooner but my vacation is over and when I work I forget the days and they just wash over so it seems all is one lol. Again it would be nice if ya could tell me if you find any errors or just tell me if ya like the story thx
> 
> !Would like to warn once more for the mentioning of eating problems!

Merlin still wasn’t over the shock of having Arthur here, back with him. Arthur. Arthur Pendragon, his king, his friend, his- No.

They reached the village just minutes before lunch. Arthur didn’t know what minutes where, Merlin remembered. Arthur didn’t know anything about this time, about how time walked nowadays. He didn’t know he looked way out of place with his old red leather jacket and sword and damn beautiful golden hair. Or maybe he knew and that was why he had insisted on taking the sword with him. Or he wanted to scare away Mabel with it, poor girl. Merlin really wasn’t sure what had gotten into his king.

He looked at Arthur every time he was sure the other man wouldn’t look back. It was easy as soon as they finally reached Gyldeorl; Arthur’s eyes were everywhere as if he hadn’t been in a village ever before. It wasn’t that complicated to guess why that was. When Merlin had talked about a village he thought about this village here, Arthur on the other side would probably have thought about a village like Ealdor, Merlin’s birthplace.

Instead, the houses were more like the ones in the upper town of Camelot, build high and out of clean stone and wood, the roofs made out of slate plates. Right over the streets were ropes hanging from one house to the other on which they put flower garlands in spring and summer and branches of firs in winter. There were streetlights too, but they didn’t work with electrics like the ones in London; they worked with magic, even though no one here knew. The people would light them in the evening and they would go out themselves when no one walked around town anymore.

“Unbelievable”, he heard Arthur mutter and his smile widened.

They went on to the farm a short way outside of the village. One little goat came their way and started nibbling on Merlin’s trousers. Merlin laughed but shook the animal off as soon as possible. He had already lost one the night before and even though he had money he didn’t have the patience to wait for a tailor to make him a new one. Mrs. Smith would probably tell him how much weight he had lost since the last time she had seen him. It wasn’t as if he did it on purpose, he just sometimes forgot to eat when he was absorbed in his projects or had thought about Arthur too much.

Arthur was back, so there was one point less to worry about, but at least two new came along. He had to take care of Arthur and protect him, had to show Arthur this new world and find out _why_ Arthur had returned. He would return when Albion was in need of her king, that was what the forecast had been. So how came it that Albion needed him now and not in the times of Christianity taking over, the witch burning, why not when Camelot had fallen or when the black death came around. Why now?

They reached the farm after a while. Ms. Pines stood aside and watched the stall boys do their work while she herself filled milk into small glass bottles. Her brown hair was tied up so it wouldn’t fall in her face and her cheeks were flushed, even though the weather was cold and Merlin was sure he would start to need to wear gloves some of the coming days.

When she saw them her face wrinkled but then came into a smile. New faces were rare in Gyldeorl and one like Arthur’s even less common. Merlin didn’t mean the people of his village were ugly, but they weren’t Arthur who was something completely different.

“Hello, dear”, she greeted him and already passed over a few bottles before Merlin even had time to say anything.

Arthur watched the stall boys with a cheeky grin and asked, “You miss it, _Mer_ lin?” While he came to a stop next to him he gave his attention to Ms. Pines.

“Not at all”, Merlin shoved against him and brought Arthur into a short stumble which made the king laugh. “Good day, Ms. Pines. Thank you for the milk.”

“Always for our favorite”, she smiled and eyed Arthur. “Who is your friend and why is he wearing a sword?” Her eyes got small, wrinkled on the sides. “Somehow, it feels as if I have seen him before.”

Arthur, who had gotten a fond smile by her words, bowed slightly, but before he could speak Merlin jumped in. Arthur couldn’t introduce himself as Arthur _Pendragon_ , under no circumstances, so without a beat Merlin said the first name that came to his mind.

“Arthur Watson”, Arthur’s face crunched under the sound of the name but it didn’t matter. “He is a colleague from university.”

“Oh”, Ms. Pine’s face grew red. “If I had known you had a visitor I would have given you more yesterday. You need to tell me things like this, Merlin.”

He blushed, felt bad for making her believe he hadn’t told her on purpose and even worse for making her think Arthur was some kind of secret to hide away.

“Oh, no”, Arthur jumped in in that moment and Merlin was glad even though he didn’t want to hear what he was trying to get them out of this with. “Merlin didn’t plan for this and I just arrived this morning from London, so don’t you worry.”

“I’m glad, then. How long do you want to stay, dear Mr. Watson? Gyldeorl is a beautiful village and I’m sure you could meet many interesting people and find ease from the fast city life.”

“I would like to stay a while”, Arthur said smiling and bowed once more. “Also, please call me Arthur.”

When they were back on their way into town Arthur sighted and gave him a small slap on the back of his head. Somehow Merlin had missed it more when it was just a memory.

“Watson”, Arthur said. “What kind of name is that? Why can’t I go by my own name when everyone else is calling you Merlin too?”

“And how, _Sire_ , will I explain to anyone there is a man running around called Arthur _Pendragon_ , yes, like the king out of legends, without it being suspicious or anyone wondering where you come from all of a sudden”, Merlin huffed. “We need a backstory for you, a life you have lived and a family. Something you have done and that explains where you come from. I should have thought about this earlier, should have thought about this way earlier. Why haven’t I made a plan for this yet? I knew someday you were supposed to be back, so why didn’t I prepare some-”

“Mer-”, Arthur crabbed his shoulders, brought him to a stop. “ _Mer_ lin.”

Merlin looked at him, hadn’t realized he had started crying again. It was so stupid. He should be better than this. Arthur would call him a girl’s petticoat and sissy and whatnot. But at least Arthur was back again. At least he had that. Only as long as Arthur could endure him, endure this, but at least for a while.

Instead of letting go and walking away, Arthur pulled him into a hug, crushing and warm and _home_ like the night before.

Merlin didn’t really understand why Arthur was doing this, why Arthur was even putting up with him. Sure, they were friends and sometimes they had talked about their feelings and yes, when Arthur had – _left_ – he had asked Merlin to hold him. Maybe Arthur needed this too, needed it to not feel so alone in this world, so, so alone.

Arthur pressed his head against Merlin’s, then let go. His blue green eyes met Merlin’s. They had the same color as the lake in summer, but they felt different, more like warmth.

“You did a great job, you hear”, Arthur said slowly. “You stayed alive and build a house we can live in, a home full of warmth and food, and that’s whats most important to live. A title doesn’t matter as much as this; you should know that the best.”

Merlin nodded, shut his eyes to get some clarity into his head. What else had he wanted to do today? There was something he had totally forgotten, something important. He rubbed his eyes.

“Your outfit is already pretty strange”, Arthur tousled through Merlin’s hair, “but whatever he is wearing is on another level.”

Merlin turned to look in the direction of the village where Father Jonas was making his way over to them. He didn’t seem to want to go to the farm so Merlin was sure he wanted to talk to him, once again, why ever. Merlin wasn’t interested in whatever the man had to say and he wouldn’t pretend just because he was part of the church. Possibly even less because of that.

“He’s the church’s pastor”, Merlin explained fast before Father Jonas was in earshot. “The church is a house where Christians pray to their god.”

Arthur looked at him odd for a moment but right then the Father arrived with his thin smile and flowing black outfit. The cross around his neck was made out of gold with red stones set into it.

“Mr. Holmes”, the man said, then turned to Arthur. “I’m Father Jonas and how is your name?”

Arthur pursed his lips, he didn’t seem to like the man either or it was because he had to introduce himself with another name, “Arthur Watson. Whose father are you, exactly?”

Merlin nearly snorted while the pastor straightened his back and set his clothing tidily, “Father is my title and every Christ is my child, and so are you.”

When Arthur took a step back the Father’s forehead wrinkled like old fruits. Merlin needed to put a hand in front of his mouth to not laugh out loud. He hurried to rub the tear strains away while doing so.

“That’s somehow part of their religion”, Merlin explained when he was able to speak again. “They call their god _Father_ too, just so you know.”

“Their _god_?” Arthur looked at him bewildered, his face crunched together, “They believe in just one god?”

He looked so unbelieving Merlin had the feeling Father Jonas would take it as an insult. Good.

“Why”, the Father’s face was grim even thought he seemed to hold his patience and tried his best to stay friendly, “in how many gods do you believe in?”

“In as many as necessary”, Arthur pointed out and Merlin let out a snort. Arthur gave him a sharp look. “Not in every one of them, understandably Loki isn’t anyone you should lay your hopes into.”

Somehow Merlin was sure that wasn’t the answer the pastor had awaited. He probably hadn’t expected anything from Arthur that didn’t show him as a proper Christ. Arthur looked way too sublime and educated, even with sword at his hip, to be a pagan or barbarian, as the church would call it.

Father Jonas cleared his throat, “Maybe you should think about your believes some more and come back to me then. I would be pleased to baptize you, both of you.” With the last word he looked at Merlin.

Arthur mumbled something under his breath, touched the pommel of his sword and let his hand stay there in the end. Before Father Jonas could say anything else that would let Arthur pull out his sword for the disrespect the man showed to the king and their believe Merlin pulled out his pocket watch and nodded to himself.

“We would like to talk some more, Father”, Merlin said with a tight smile and Arthur growled quietly, “but we’re in a hurry. I await an urgent telegram from a friend of mine.”

He pulled Arthur with him until they came to the marketplace, looking around if the pastor had followed them but couldn’t make him out between the other folk. Arthur looked around too, interested in the new things he could find and never had seen before. It was the thing that made Merlin the happiest, that Arthur wasn’t just sitting there missing the past and feel lonely, even though he himself did it all the time. His king was lively as always and that was what counted most.

They followed the street down to _Gaber’s_ _P_ _ost_ _O_ _ffice_ and went inside. Better, Merlin went inside. He saw Arthur stand still in front of the booth next to the house. On the counter lay potatoes and different corn, some other things one hadn’t gotten in Albion for a long time after Arthur had gone. Merlin had only heard about what they had done to the people, specially their sorcerers, over there. It had been one of the times he wished he would be able to leave Arthur and even more to bring bigger change into the world. This world that had gotten so big.

Because he was sure Arthur had seen him entering he went forth and greeted Mrs. Gaber friendly who seemed to just have arrived from the market herself.

“There were some woman from Asia”, she told him when Arthur finally came after them. “Such beautiful fabrics, my boy. If we just had more money… I’m sure Mrs. Smith could tailor some beautiful dresses out of it.” She saw Arthur and went silent, watched him for a moment how he inspected the Morse telegraph and asked him then, “Can I help you somehow?”

Arthur looked up, his gaze darted over to Merlin then back to her, “Maybe. Can you explain this thing to me?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. Mrs. Gaber looked surprised.

Merlin knew she hadn’t a real clue about how the telegraph worked, she was the shoemaker’s daughter after all and would have carried out the work if it wasn’t for her children. Peter was healthy but her daughter Volla wasn’t able to move her legs at her own accord. Once he had tried to remove this disability from the girl, so young and inexperienced in life. He hadn’t understood how something like this could happen to a child just born. But while his magic had started it’s work she had begun to cry, cry so loud he thought she would die. And when she had been old enough to talk she had told him she didn’t really miss walking, if what she could feel for it was missing. She had never done it but she had her wheelchair and her family and friends so it wasn’t something that bothered her too much.

He knew he would buy some of the fabrics for her and her family.

“Come up, Arthur”, Merlin smiled. “This is Mrs. Gaber, her family owns the post office.”

Arthur got up and bowed, Merlin really needed to get this out of him, somehow. But it was cute, so maybe not. While Arthur introduced himself again Merlin looked out for Mr. Gaber or Peter, but he couldn’t make out either of them in the back part of the house. When Arthur was looking at the telegraph again Mrs. Gaber grabbed his arm.

“I’m sure I have seen this man before. Is it possible he visited your great uncle? Or is he part of the royal family? There is something about him but I can’t quiet put my finger on it.”

Merlin shook his head, “Oh, neither. He was in Afghanistan, just came back two weeks ago. Maybe you saw him arrive here about an hour ago.”

“Sure, it has to be”, she mumbled, she shook herself and went behind the counter. “However, what can I do for you? I’m sure you didn’t just come by to introduce your colleague.”

“Oh no, I’m not. I wanted to know if you got another telegram for me. The Inspector sounded as if he wanted to tell me more.”

When she went further into her home to search for her husband Arthur came over again and stood next to him, their shoulders brushing against each other.

“What’s an Inspector and what kind of message is it you got from him”, Arthur mused while considering the family portrait of the Gaber’s that hung right across from them. Merlin had taken the photograph himself and was actually proud of it, for it was the first one he had ever taken. “And how did they do _that_?” Arthur hadn’t seen a photograph before, he remembered.

“ _This_ is a photograph. I will explain it to you some other time. Now, the Inspector works for Scotland Yard, the police. They are kind of like the guard patrol of Camelot, but they don’t work for the Queen but for the law. I help him out, sometimes.”

“So Inspector is his name?”

“It’s his rank. There are more than one Inspector at Scotland Yard, believe me. But the Inspector we’re talking about is named Staver; he is- _has_ Lancelot’s soul.”

At that Arthur looked at him, “What do you mean, he has Lancelot’s soul. Don’t tell me you-”

“What? No”, Merlin stopped this accusation immediately, partly shocked Arthur would blame him for this. “No, I wouldn’t do that, you know I wouldn’t. Sometimes their souls just come back… Not always do they look as they had in Camelot, sometimes they do, this time he does, but it’s not me who does that. I think maybe it’s normal: for souls to come back, I mean. Maybe it’s normal for the ones who belong together to find together, too.”

Arthur nodded, “I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything, it’s just it seems impossible. After death I thought I would end in Valhalla forever but instead I come back here.” The king licked his lips, his nose wrinkled. “Instead of Valhalla I was in Avalon, even though I don’t really remember it. I remember it felt like sleeping, maybe like floating, but not as I always believed the end to be.”

“Maybe because it wasn’t the end”, Merlin said sadly.

Arthur looked at him, “Don’t make that face again, _Mer_ lin.”

“I will try.”

Mr. Gaber really had a new telegram for him. Merlin made for the way to the park to sit there and explain the whole thing to Arthur who had made it his duty to show little Peter how to really hold a sword while he was occupied. When Merlin finally had gotten him away from the boy Mrs. Gaber gave him a thankful gaze and shook her head with a face as if to say “Boys will be boys”.

The market was still full of people, with lunchtime over it had gotten even more. When they passed the asian women with their fine fabrics Merlin bought enough for the Gaber women and even some for Arthur and himself. It was soft and light, probably silk, so he couldn’t say no to it even as they started out with an overcharged price. He could haggle it down to little under the price he would have paid in London, all while Arthur sniffed at the different soaps on the next shop and gave him impish looks.

While they went on people greeted Merlin and eyed Arthur interested, but never said something to him. Maybe they were scared away by the sword or because Arthur walked as if he owned the place – something the king had already done when he still was a bigger prat then he were now.

Before they reached the park Merlin considered to bring the fabrics to Mrs. Smith and let her use them for the Gaber’s next dresses and some shirts for themselves. It hadn’t been his best idea.

The woman flit back and forth between the two of them, told Merlin how much weight he had lost and how she wouldn’t tailor something new for him until he hadn’t something more on him so the clothes would fit longer. It was embarrassing to get that told in front of Arthur who’s expression went more worried the longer Mrs. Smith went on about Merlin’s health and how bad it was for a young man to lose and gain weight the same he changed his outfit.

With Arthur she was nicer, proud to see such broad shoulders and happy to get to make something for them. She looked at the fabrics and praised whoevers soul had decided this colors for the blonde man before her. Merlin didn’t tell her it was him and Arthur just blushed a deep red and cleared his throat a few times.

When they finally got outside the sun was already going down and it was getting colder, probably going to freeze that night. Merlin sighted, hadn’t he been able to reach everything he wanted today and hadn’t even been able to explain to Arthur that he would leave Gyldeorl in a few days to go back to London and help to grab a seemingly sorcerer.

No, a murderer. Sorcerer shouldn’t be what defined this person, not with what they did.

Arthur would stay here where it was safe and sound and he wouldn’t get confronted with too many new things at once.

They started to make their way home but Arthur stopped when they came by the park and he saw the statue shining bright in the last light of the down going sun and the streetlights. While his prat of a king looked at his own statue Merlin watched him. He realized Arthur was smiling. A small smile he had worn when winning a tournament or getting a laugh out of Gwen or Merlin or sometimes even Leon.

“It’s your little kingdom”, Arthur said then, and looked back at Merlin. “They are your people living in a land you build. Not for you, not for your own well being, but for the well being of them.”

Merlin had never thought about it like this; he was no king.

“Let’s go home”, he said therefor.

They were awake long that evening, drinking the wine Merlin had gotten the first day and not touched before. He thought he would need it to tell Arthur he would leave but instead he didn’t talk about it at all, not about his work and even less about a bad sorcerer who run around London and murdered people. In the end they had drunken less than just stared into the flames and Merlin had shoved the bottle aside and made them tea.

There was one other thing he wanted to ask but didn’t dare to. He felt silly even considering to ask Arthur, but on the other hand he didn’t know if he could fall asleep by himself, without Arthur next to him to see he was there, was alive and well and _not_ dead. But then he didn’t have to ask.

As soon as their tea was gone Arthur stood up and pulled Merlin with him into his room and threw some cloth on him.

“You can’t sleep in your day cloth again, Merlin. There’s a reason people take off their dirty boots and we’re not on the hunt”, with that the king started to remove his cloth and laid his sword aside.

Merlin started to undress himself, turned around, then stopped in his track when he noticed Arthur’s ring around his neck. He had totally forgotten about it, just thought about Arthur being back. He should hand it back now.

With ease he opened the necklace and got the ring off, polished it with the sleeve of his shirt to bring it back to new shine, even though it shone bright without him doing so as well.

“Arthur, I-”, he turned around but stopped talking when he saw Arthur’s face. He wasn’t sure if Arthur had seen the ring and thought Merlin hadn’t planed to give it back or what was the reason for him to look at Merlin like that.

“Merlin”, Arthur’s voice wasn’t much more than a breath. “What happened?”

He didn’t have to ask to know Arthur had seen his back and now also the front of his torso where he had some pretty bad scars from this long life. That’s what he told him, “Life.” What else should he say. He didn’t want to talk about the torture he had went through once a witch hunter had come to Gyldeorl and accused more than one innocent soul of sorcery, didn’t want to talk about how a boar had once nearly killed him when he saved Ms. Pines’ great grandmother, didn’t want to talk about any of the bad things that had happened to him, or about the good things, that is. “Maybe someday”, he said when he saw Arthur’s unsatisfied face, the set of his shoulders and the jaw clenched.

He could see in Arthur’s eyes that he didn’t want this things to have happened to Merlin, that he felt responsible for it even though he hadn’t been there. Merlin knew the feeling too well, but he couldn’t do anything to help. Arthur knew he hadn’t been able to do anything. He had been away.

“I wanted to give something to you. It actually belongs to you so I just give it back, but, you know”, Merlin trailed off.

Arthur came closer and looked at what Merlin was holding out to him. The ring shone bright in the small room and Arthur grabbed it hesitantly.

“You kept him”, Arthur said. Merlin could see the grieve in his eyes, now where he had something more that was old as him and belonged to their time. “You stayed with Guinevere, then?”

Shaking his head Merlin said, “I told you this morning, though I’m not sure if you listened, when I came back to Camelot twenty years had gone by already. I couldn’t stay, Arthur; I didn’t belong, not anymore. And Gwen, she told me to keep the ring, I don’t know why. I still don’t understand the look she had given me.”

“She always was a complicated woman”, Arthur huffed out.

Merlin smiled, “Not as complicated as her prat of a husband, I imagine.”

“I may be no king anymore, _Mer_ lin, but I still have a sword.”

Merlin’s smile vanished. On the one hand he knew Arthur _wouldn’t_ do anything to him, on the other one should never say never. He had seen best friends become enemies, had seen siblings kill each other for money or fame or because of love.

But this was Arthur. Arthur wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

“Didn’t I tell you to not look like that”, Arthur whispered and raised his hand to lay it on Merlin’s shoulder, squeezed.

“I still don’t really know what you mean by that”, Merlin gave his best to blink the tears away, not lifting his gaze so Arthur wouldn’t see anything of it.

Arthur took another step and crushed him into a hug. That would be the third one in just this day he had been back. Merlin still didn’t understand why Arthur was hugging him. It probably really was the loss, there wasn’t another explanation.

Arthur’s skin was hot against his, pleasant like a warm bath and not like touching a pot with cooking water in it. The other’s breath tickled at his nape and let every little hair stand up and even gave him goose bumps over his whole exposed back. His nose was shoved into Arthur’s neck and Merlin could smell him. Home.

Maybe hugging wasn’t that bad of an idea after all, even though with Arthur wearing nothing but his sleeping trousers he wasn’t sure where to put his hands other than on his own sides. Even though Arthur was touching him without any caution he himself felt a little overloaded with the intimacy.

Not only were Arthur’s hugs the first real ones he had gotten in about over four hundred years but also it was _Arthur_.

“Arthur…”

Arthur shoved his hand in Merlin’s neck and pressed their heads together. He had done that the first two times too, who knew what it meant.

“We’ll go to sleep now and you stop thinking about whatever you’re thinking”, Arthur mumbled. “I’m here, we’re both here and we’re alive. Nothing is going to happen to either of us, you understand this?”

Merlin nodded. He tried to understand but he also knew it wasn’t as easy as Arthur made it seem with his words. Merlin had the feeling this all wasn’t real, couldn’t be real. In the end he would wake up and Inspector Staver had put him into a sanatorium.

“Are you real”, he asked when Arthur pulled back, “or am I just mad?”

“I believe you have always been a little mad, Merlin”, Arthur rumbled through his hair, then shoved one hand right through it. “But I’m also really here. I’m real, no ghost or something – at least as much as I know. Only your king.”

Sleep didn’t come easy and it took Merlin at least an hour to just feel a little bit tired even though he knew if he had been alone he had cried his eyes out and fallen asleep in under half an hour. He wasn’t sure if Arthur was asleep already or if he felt the same way, but Merlin didn’t dare to say something or move.

He just stared straight ahead into black nothingness, letting his mind build pictures with the small amount of light coming through the closed curtains. It wasn’t as if really seeing something, more like many little dust points flying around and rearranging every time he concentrated too much on them.

Then a hand landed on his shoulder, hot as a branding iron but at the same time cold as ice. His breath hitched but he had it under control in mere seconds.

Arthur didn’t talk, didn’t even move much more for the next twenty minutes or so. But somehow the touch helped and Merlin went into a doze, not really asleep but still asleep enough so time passed him in a slow rush, neither waking him nor letting him lull into sleep fully.

He awoke with sleep in his eyes and sweaty, something that normally didn’t happen. He was lucky to feel even slightly warm before he fell asleep and when he woke up he was usually in this comfort zone of a warm summer day. This was different.

He moved his arm down the mattress just to realize it wasn’t canvas he was feeling beneath him, specially now where he noticed he wasn’t lying horizontal and also on no pillow but on Arthur, who’s arm was slung around him like on a maiden. He could feel Ygraine’s ring cold on his back where Arthur’s hand pressed hot.

Different. Definitely different. And strange.

Merlin didn’t know what to do, even less what to think. This was good, felt even right. It shouldn’t feel right, this was his king, his best friend, his- Merlin wanted to shake his head, stopped in his track when he remembered he would wake Arthur up and a woken Arthur was an annoyed Arthur.

He sighted, his gaze wandering over Arthur’s naked chest. He inspected every scar he could make out from his point of view, stopped at the place Mordred’s sword had run through. Nothing. Every other scar was there, the one from this tournament or that fight, but not the one that had ended Arthur’s life – even if just temporary.

His fingers wandered to the point, caressed it, tried out if it was possible to feel anything on it, any kind of past wound.

Arthur moaned, Merlin pulled his hand away.

His face flushed deep red but after Arthur stirred a little he settled back in and snored lightly. Merlin let out the breath he had held. _That_ wasn’t what he had intended.

“Arthur”, he whispered, Arthur stirred again, “You’re really here. Really real.”

The low hung sun shone only slightly through the thick curtains, let the light be some dirty kind of gray green that would have made Arthur look dead if the man’s lips weren’t that red and his cheeks rosy as the ones of a baby, his stomach raising and lowering with evenly gaps. It was nearly a sight that told Merlin to fall back asleep, so peaceful. One didn’t need to live when one could lie in bed and sleep with this man next to for eternity.

Someone knocked against the house’s door, loudly, called his name.

Merlin threw his head back, groaned. He wanted everything but to stand up and go to the door, would even clean Arthur’s armor without complaining, but he knew he had no choice. So he tried to stand up, and tried, and failed.

Groaning again he clapped his hand on Arthur’s chest, “Need to get up, Arthur. Let go. Let go, I say, or you’re going to the door.”

Arthur grumbled but let go and started to stretch himself. Merlin gulped.

He hadn’t looked at himself before he opened the door, didn’t even care, but thankfully it was Peter Gaber so it didn’t matter. Peter had a new telegram for him and then looked around him into the house, probably to see if he could make out Arthur somewhere.

They had another victim, this time a child from the streets. Merlin suddenly felt sick, thinking about Estha and all the other children he knew, knowing it was possible it had been one of them.

He told Peter he should wait, he would give him a message to send back. He needed to sit down, immediately.

Arthur came out of his bedroom a few minutes later and went right to Peter when he saw him. Whatever they talked about, just a few moments later Arthur knelt next to his armchair, looking worried.

“What is it?”

He knew he had to tell Arthur now and couldn’t wait longer. He would need to go back to London, not later then tomorrow. Done he rubbed over his face, once, twice. He needed to write back first, then explain to Arthur, let him meet at least Mrs. Thompson before he went.

He wasn’t ready to leave Arthur. He wasn’t ready to go away now, where he had just gotten him back. To Hel with it all. He just wanted to sleep.

“I will explain”, he said stressed, “soon.”

Arthur took a look at Peter and seemed to understand. He nodded, “Do you need some time?”

“Only some minutes to write back.” Arthur’s face crunched and Merlin remembered he still hadn’t explained the new concept of time. “It isn’t long. Just go play with Peter.”

Arthur stood up again and squeezed his shoulder before he went over and outside with the boy. Merlin waited until the door closed before he took a quill and started writing back.

_BACK TOMORROW STOP WANT SEE VICTIM STOP IF NO CAUSE PROBABLY S STOP STILL RAIN AT NIGHT STOP MEET 4 PM UNIVERSITY STOP HOLMES_

He didn’t know what else to include. If no one else would read the messages he could go more into detail, if it was a letter, but he knew there were at least two people who read what they were talking about and even though he trusted Mr. Gaber, he wouldn’t trust whoever sat in London. Trusting with the knowledge of a sorcerer in a time where it was widely believed sorcerers weren’t real or, if real, bad was something completely different, to say the least.

He counted out how much he had to pay and pulled some more money out of his pocket, then went to the door.

Outside were Arthur and Peter challenging each other. Arthur still wore only his trousers. Merlin asked himself if the other wasn’t cold but then, it was Arthur. Even if he was cold he wouldn’t tell and starting to brawl with the boy would heat him up no matter what; Arthur wasn’t as young as he had been when they first met. But he wasn’t as old as Merlin… Or maybe he was, if time went the same in Avalon as it did in the human world.

He breathed through.

“Young Peter”, Merlin called out and the two of them stopped their banter to come over to him. Arthur wasn’t wearing any shoes either. “Please get this to your father. And here is some money. I’m sure you will meet Arthur some other time again.”

Peter nodded and went his way, out of their sight in a blink of an eye. Arthur came up the steps to stand next to him, looking after the boy. His body screamed of heat and Merlin was reminded of the way he had awoken that day, blushing easily.

“He would have made a good squire, don’t you think”, and with that Arthur went in and over to the kitchen were he pulled the milk out of the small freezing box Merlin stored it in. “Cocoa or just?”

“I think I’ll take a tea”, Merlin closed the door behind himself and went over, filled some water in a cup before heating it with his magic.

When they sat in front of the fireplace, Arthur further away, drinking his milk cold, Merlin thought about how to explain what was happening in London and that he had to leave by tomorrow. Arthur nibbled on one of the sweet loafs they still had from yesterday while stretching out on the fur, mumbling something about how he never was allowed to do that as a child because he was the prince and how _great_ it was. Merlin decided it was the easiest to lay the burning iron on the wound before it infected.

“I’m leaving for London by tomorrow morning”, he breathed through while Arthur grew silent and watched him. “There are murders happening and as much as we know it could be a sorcerer who runs around killing one person after another. Last night it has been a child, one I possibly know, and I can’t wait any longer even though I would like to stay here. You need to believe me, Arthur, I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t necessary.”

Arthur nodded, “When are we leaving?”

We. Merlin furrowed his brows. He knew Arthur would want to come with him, search for a sorcerer. He couldn’t take him with him.

“You’re staying here”, he said with finality. “It is dangerous and you could get hurt. Also you still don’t understand the world as it is now. You need to-”

“ _I_ could get hurt”, Arthur went on all fours, then jumped up. “Do you even listen when you talk? What do I do if _you_ get hurt? I may don’t understand this world but I understand a sword and the way guards work, probably better than you. I can help. I _need_ to help. You can’t put me in this house all by myself and expect me to-”

“You won’t be all alone! I would send Mrs. Thompson over and Mabel and Peter would come by too, I’m sure! I’m even sure I could get-”

“But they aren’t my best friend, by Odin’s beard, Merlin. Don’t you understand? I want to do this _with_ you, together, as it always was.”

Merlin knew he looked desperate when he said, “There won’t be a forest to ride through, no clear path. I don’t have any help anymore, no one who I could ask for wisdom or an answer. We’re literally out cold.”

“Then it be so.”

His gaze got blurred. He didn’t know what to say to that. He hadn’t thought Arthur would even consider going on patrol with him again, ever again. As he was king they had done that only once every blue moon and Merlin had thought Arthur wasn’t really interested in searching by himself anymore. But it seemed it were his obligations as king that had stopped him.

“Arthur-”

“I’m here”, Arthur touched his wrist, his arm.

Nodding, Merlin drunk another sip of his tea, “Yes. Yes, I know.”

What Arthur gave him wasn’t a smile, but it was fond. As if he had lost someone and Merlin reminded him of them. Probably because it was like that. Whoever it was Merlin reminded him of, he didn’t need to know. Arthur mumbled something under his breath but when Merlin looked at him questioning he just shook his head.

After a while of silence the king asked, “How do you know the murderer is a sorcerer?”

“We aren’t sure yet”, Merlin confirmed. “They aren’t able to find a cause of death. I only saw the first victim, the night it was found, but it rained heavy so we couldn’t find anything else and the victim hadn’t any wounds or signs of poisoning.”

“What about the other victims? How many are it by now?”

“Five by now, every night one new victim”, he rubbed his eyes. “The only mutuality I could make out from here was they all were out at night and all hadn’t much money, some even lived on the street like that girl they found this morning… And then it always rained and this rain, Arthur, I tell you, there is something wrong with it. It feels ill, like evil, wrong used magic.”

Arthur nodded, “Now I understand why you need to go back. I would do the same.”

“We will see that Mrs. Smith has at least two shirts ready for you by tomorrow morning. You will get some of my trousers and stuff so you won’t attract the wrong people when we arrive in London.”

Arthur stood up, “What about my sword? You know I won’t go without it.”

Merlin smiled, he knew that for sure, “I think I can enchant it so it looks like a walking stick to others.”

“A walking stick”, Arthur spit out, “I’m no old man!”

“No, but you want to keep your sword with you”, Merlin reasoned.

In the end Arthur agreed, though reluctantly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Work is so exhausting, I sleep at least 7 hours the night and am still tired every morning, ugh,,, maybe cause I generally can't sleep well but who cares, just wish I could work at night instead of daytime lol  
> Okay actually just wanted to warn once more about !! talk about eating problems !! espacially in the beginning of this chapter. Hope y'all have fun though

The next day Arthur stood in Mrs. Smith shop while she did the last touches on his new shirts. She worked faster than his royal tailor – a man he would never see again, he reminded himself. She also seemed to be proud of her work, earned as Arthur thought, and even prouder of Arthur being able to stand still for the hours she had taken yesterday and also today to finish his outfits.

“You know”, she mused, “everyone else is always so squeamish. They can’t stand still for even half an hour. Your boy Merlin is the worst of all, coming here having lost so many pounds I feel like making clothes for a totally new person and a few weeks later coming back being on normal terms just to vanish to London for two Month. And then he got so thin again. And as soon as you have him stand here he starts tipping his toes and looking around like a bird sat in a cage.”

Arthur was glad Merlin had left to get a suitcase to put their new clothing in. He had found out before that Merlin often traveled without any package because he didn’t saw a reason in dragging his stuff from Gyldeorl to London and back, again and again. Now Merlin was away so he had time to talk with Mrs. Smith without him finding out.

“When you say he loses weight, how much are we talking about”, he knew he would probably not understand the unit the woman would use, but he was able to find them out later. “Since we’re going to live together I want to keep an eye on him but he has always been skinny, as long as I know him.”

She pursed her lips while align some stitches, “Maybe you should see he eats when you eat and if he eats less you can give him some more as snacks.”

He felt as if he was talking about a dog. It was fitting, since some nobles had seen their servants for nothing less. But Merlin was different, he was his best friend, had been his first real friend. He wanted to do him right and to do that it wasn’t advisable to treat him like something less than he was.

“I don’t think that would work”, he said because of this. “When we were younger he always stole food off of my plate but now… I think I have been gone too long to really understand him anymore.”

“I don’t think so. And even if, you still have the time to get to know him again, you two are still young”, she smiled at him as she finished up and allowed him to take his arms down to study the result.

Arthur snorted at the statement. He wasn’t that young anymore and Merlin was way older than anyone else on the world, expect maybe the Sidhe. And both of them had already seen too much, Merlin even more than Arthur could ever imagine. He remembered the one big scar on Merlin’s back, the one that had looked like a crossroad.

Merlin wasn’t supposed to look like that, to have so many scars on his body. He wasn’t a knight, he wasn’t a fighter.

He would have liked to talk to her about these things, wished he had someone to talk about Merlin who knew what was going on. But there wasn’t anyone. It was just the two of them, it seemed.

“But Mr. Watson”, Mrs. Smith stopped while taking off the shirt to get to the last one. “Take good care of him, please. He always looks so lost, as if he were the only one in this world. It is good he has you by his side now. We all were worried for a long time.”

“I can believe that”, he gave her a reassuring smile but didn’t really feel it. “Maybe we can get the Merlin back I knew. I just wish-” He halted himself before he could say the wrong thing, talk about Guinevere or Gawain or Gaius. Gaius would have been the greatest help he could imagine, but he knew he wouldn’t get that.

“What is it, dear boy?”

He watched her mindful expression for a while before he spoke, “Many of our dear friends have left us a while ago, sadly. I don’t think it is something he will want to talk about, but I see he must. And I’m not even sure I myself am able to talk about it.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that”, she said and Arthur believed her.

“I think it was worse for him, since I wasn’t there to witness it; but every time I look at him it feels as if I lost him too.”

Mrs. Smith nodded, went silent for a while. When she talked again she said, “It was the same when my father died, god have mercy on him. My mother wasn’t the same person anymore. It went on til she went mad and died, poor soul.”

At that moment he felt happy as Guinevere hadn’t been pregnant by him and they hadn’t any children yet either. He remembered how it was to grow up without a mother, without a father too, you could say, had Uther never been a real father to him.

“I’m sorry for your losses, may they rest well”, he opened the buttons of the shirt to get it off, finally. “I think it is understood you aren’t to talk about this to anyone else, least of all Merlin himself.”

She gave him a smile as if to say “you know me” and then moved a hand before her mouth as if to lock it. It was enough to convince him she wouldn’t brag about to other people, but maybe that was only because Merlin had been his servant for so long and never spilled his secrets. Or at least any important.

Merlin arrived just shortly later, a suitcase nearly as big as his wooden box had been in which Merlin had always stuffed his bed sheets. Arthur whistled.

While Merlin paid up for their clothing and as Arthur realized for the dresses of family Gaber too, he examined the big suitcase and tried to figure out a way to open it and put the cloth inside. They surely didn’t need such a big case just for the two of them, they weren’t lady’s who had to take care of their dresses. When he looked back at Merlin he wondered if not men were wearing dresses now too. Merlin at least would look good in one, while Arthur himself would probably not. Merlin always had had a slim figure, even as they grew mature and the man had grown some muscles.

His gaze followed Merlin’s shape while the man was still talking to Mrs. Smith who started to watch him after a while, always out of the corner of her eyes. He wasn’t quiet sure if she thought he didn’t realize it or wanted him to know she was watching him.

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter.

When Merlin had finally ended whatever he had talked about for so long, girl’s petticoat that he was, Arthur finally had time to say goodbye to Mrs. Smith and promise to come over again soon. _As soon as Merlin did_ , he thought.

Merlin seemed to actually be in a hurry now, so when they stopped at the bakery he nearly run Mabel over who just came out of the house with her hand’s packet with bread. Surprised she had been caught by Arthur, Merlin just driveling an apologize while letting the door fall shut – nearly on Mabel again.

Arthur didn’t wait for her to say thanks or something, just let the suitcase stand next to the front door and went in afterwards.

Inside Merlin was talking to a roundly lady he hadn’t met yet. He hadn’t met most of the people in town, but the ones Merlin talked regularly to he knew; at least he had thought so.

When he came to a stop just a few steps away from Merlin to not interrupt their conversation, the woman looked over to him and went still, her eyes growing large. Merlin looked back at him and Arthur saw how his breathing stopped for a moment just to come back faster.

“So your king finally arrived”, the woman smiled.

Arthur felt himself blush even though there was no reason to. Merlin was the one supposed to blush from getting told a sentence like this, not him. He _was_ the king.

“Mrs. Thompson, this is Arthur Watson”, Merlin said so fast Arthur feared he would swallow his tongue. “This is Mrs. Thompson, she owns the bakery.”

“Watson, is it”, she asked Arthur sharply and he really didn’t know what to say. “I think Pendragon would fit better to him, don’t you think so, Merlin?”

He could watch Merlin blush from head down his neck and surely even lower to his feet. With a grin he bowed to Mrs. Thompson, gave her that smile which suggested he knew what she was talking about and agreeing fully as long as the terms were right.

“Indeed”, Merlin said with a grim face. “Dollophead fits too, or clotpole.”

He saw his former manservant wasn’t having as much fun as the two of them so his smile changed from predator to something neutral and he walked over to put a hand against Merlin’s upper arm, “Weren’t you in a hurry just a short while ago?”

Merlin side eyed him but nodded then, “That’s right. I would like to purchase some sweet loafs. Sadly I need to return to London immediately so I don’t know when I-” Merlin looked over at Arthur once more. “When we might come back.”

Mrs. Thompson gave Merlin a fond smile Arthur had seen Hunith use on her son. One that said “You don’t need to, but I would be delighted if you would” and made him feel somehow even more lonely then before.

They had lost all their friends, but Merlin had made new ones on the way and one day they had left him too. And Merlin was there, simply there, and couldn’t do anything about it, couldn’t even die himself because he was waiting for Arthur. Arthur could only show him how happy he was Merlin had waited for him, had waited all this time and was still there. As much as he was there.

That was the moment he saw the tarts on one of the plates behind the counter. He really wished he had his own money, so he would be able to buy one of them for Merlin, give him something back he liked.

He didn’t really want to do a normal job. If it was still possible to be a knight- but he had nothing that confirmed his blood status and he wasn’t sure if they would knight commoners just because he had done so. He also was too old to be a squirt, too slow, even though he really wasn’t slow. Just not as fast as he had been when he was younger.

Maybe Merlin could put whatever spell he was using to bring himself back to youth on him too and- No. He didn’t want to be in his dept even more. As if a life sworn to protect him wouldn’t be enough. Merlin had done wide more than enough.

Actually, if someone should be knighted it actually was Merlin. He smiled at the thought. Maybe someday.

“Goodbye”, Merlin said and wanted to go out of the shop, but Arthur still held his arm in his grip which had gotten stronger by the time without Arthur really realizing it. Instantly he let go and said his goodbye too.

“What is it”, Merlin asked when they went outside, Arthur grabbing the suitcase before Merlin could even look into the direction.

Arthur needed to breath, but he knew he couldn’t do that here, not really in a town full of people or any place with people in general. He felt the need to go back and breath there, out in the woods, on a hunting trip, just Merlin and him.

“I’m glad you’re with me, Merlin”, he said therefor.

Merlin stopped and stood behind, before he came back up to shove Arthur in the right direction of the train station.

A train. Merlin had meant they were faster than horses and more luxury than coaches but stunk because they operated through coal. He really was interested how this beasts would look like. Something else they couldn’t be but beasts. Magic creatures that feed on coal and stunk up to Asgard.

“How did human tame trains”, Arthur asked while they walked up some stairs. “I never heard about them before, so from where are they?”

Merlin looked at him perplex for a moment, then gave him a small smile, “Arthur, they aren’t beasts, they aren’t alive. They are machinery like the telegraph you saw at Gaber’s.”

Arthur imagined to travel on one thing that looked like the metal frame he had seen at the post office. He couldn’t imagine anyone riding on it, unless possibly a small child.

“You will see”, Merlin grabbed his jacket, this time it was one of Merlin’s that was a little tight around shoulder and back and he wasn’t able to close it in the front either, but Merlin had insisted. The trousers were a little too long and sat tight too, he felt like a sausage in them. Merlin had promised him to get some more fitting clothing as soon as they reached London.

In the end he had to agree, trains weren’t at all as he had imagined them. They were big and loud and stunk, but they were made out of metal and wood and not strange colored mead and bones. On the inside on the other hand they seemed really comfortable, reminded him even of parts of the courtroom.

He looked around interested while Merlin shoved him trough the small passage to a demarcated room with wood door and glass. Inside sat no one else so they entered, sat down on the bench.

Arthur looked at all of it in astonishment even while his face stayed neutral. Even in front of Merlin he couldn’t always show all of his feelings.

That had actually been the problem from the start, but with others it was even worse, sometimes.

Some man in uniform had taken their suitcase before they had went in, reminding him of a servant but then because of the neat uniform of some high born. Arthur hadn’t been sure how to correctly address him and instead of helping, Merlin had snickered next to Arthur as if it had been the funniest thing there was.

Not as funny as he had found Arthur’s conversation with this Father guy, mind you, but still funny enough to get the attention of other people sitting in the train because Merlin was laughing so loudly.

When the train started moving Arthur was holding on to his seat. He wouldn’t show any fear, not in front of Merlin, but a suddenly moving room wasn’t what he was used to. For a moment he thought Merlin was wrong, maybe lying even, for this couldn’t be anything other than magic, but then he remembered this was the future so it wasn’t that unbelievable anymore.

Maybe he himself was the most unbelievable thing here. Maybe on the whole world. Him and Merlin.

Merlin had begun telling him more about London again and Arthur was listening with one ear while watching the world outside fly by. It didn’t feel that strange, as long as they were moving, but when the train came to a halt once and again he felt sick and his stomach turned.

After a while Merlin came to an abrupt stop. At first Arthur didn’t think any of it but when he looked over and saw Merlin’s “I did something utterly wrong” face he sighted deeply.

“What”, he asked.

Merlin started nibbling on his lower lip, his gaze wandering somewhere near the ground, “My living conditions in London aren’t really suitable for you. Or, actually, for anyone. And the bed is way too small for both of us to sleep in.” With that Merlin flushed.

Arthur’s brows furrowed but he didn’t ask why Merlin was living in a dive when he was wealthy enough to not only pay for new clothing for the two of them but also another two people _and_ buy food and drink and not bother about money.

Merlin seemed to have understood his expression, because he said, “The house I build for you. For me… There never was the need for something more, something big.”

Arthur sighted, shook his head. “Merlin”, he said, “Even as you don’t need it, you still deserve more comfort than whatever hole you seem to live in if it is even worse than what you know I am used to see.”

“It isn’t _that_ bad”, Merlin said but Arthur saw him squint shortly after.

Arthur combed his hair back, sat more comfy, before he asked, “How long will it take to get a better place? When we stay in London and try to find a murderous sorcerer we can’t go without sleep. I’m also sure it would take too long to come from Gyldeorl to London and back every day.”

“And it would be utterly expensive”, Merlin’s face crunched as if bitten in a not yet ripe apple. “I’m going to ask Inspector Staver as soon as we meet him.”

Arthur nodded. Inspector Staver was the man who had Lancelot’s soul in him. He hadn’t understood the whole affair yet, but he knew it was different to the sorcerer Sigan’s return and that at least calmed him a little. He also knew the man had Lancelot’s face and that brought him to a difficult result. How could he be able to look into the man’s face. He hadn’t only died for him, he had also left his one true love, Guinevere, so Arthur could marry her. It had been stupid, since Arthur and Guinevere were friends and even though there was something like love, soon enough they had found out it wasn’t that deep, didn’t go the whole way she had felt for Lancelot. They had shared the sheets thrice in all the time they were together, happy but not as in love as they had hoped to be. But in the end she had been a real friend, a good queen, and they had stood together through everything they were hit with.

He breathed through. Now wasn’t the time to miss her and Camelot.

And he had Merlin by his side.

Merlin eyed him dubious but didn’t say anything. Arthur took eye contact, tried to read what was going on in Merlin’s head just to forget about what was going on in his own. Maybe also because he still worried about the man.

“We should eat something”, Arthur suggested. “The sun is already at it’s highest and our breakfast was really unsatisfactory.”

This was a lie, they had both eaten bread with cheese and sausages and Merlin has even made him scrambled eggs with some seasoning Arthur didn’t know but made it delicious. But Merlin had only eaten half his food and afterwards patted his belly as if he had eaten too much for one morning.

Merlin took out what of food they had taken with them and handed it over to Arthur but didn’t take anything for himself. Arthur felt sick holding the food in his hands, not able to eat anything if Merlin wouldn’t too.

“If you’re not hungry I’m not eating either”, he said and shoved the food back over, Merlin catching it startled.

“What?”

He somehow needed to make money himself so he could take Merlin out somewhere and Merlin would get something he really wanted. _Take Merlin out_ , he thought again, confused. That made it sound the wrong way, as if he wanted to court Merlin. He surely didn’t want to court Merlin.

“Arthur?”

He looked up again. Merlin looked as if he was going to pout. Silly. No, he absolutely didn’t want to court his _former servant_.

He hummed, but Merlin didn’t continue because in that moment the door to their little room opened and a woman came to a stop on the threshold. She looked at them surprised, then smiled.

“I’m sorry, but could I take a seat”, she asked, eyeing Merlin up and down. Arthur grumbled. “The rest of the train is already loaded to the brim.”

“Sure”, Merlin said with his dumb smile.

Before the woman could even move into the booth Arthur moved over to sit next to Merlin who smiled at him dumbfound as if Arthur had done something polite and not just cut off the woman’s chance to sit down next to his friend. Merlin really didn’t seem to have even realized the interest the woman was showing in him. Arthur wasn’t sure if he should see that as something good.

The next moment he wanted to hit his head against the wall because now he was driving backwards _and_ he had acted like a jealous goon.

He _really_ didn’t want to court Merlin. He just didn’t want Merlin to leave him for some woman he met on this beast.

The woman sat down on the now free bench and opened something made out of parchment he hadn’t seen before. On it were all kinds of words and pictures. Arthur could make out the word’s “murderer” and “London” and felt confused about the strange letters and ways the words were written in. But when he tried to read them aloud they still meant what they should mean, they still sounded as they should sound.

Merlin looked at him and the woman eyed him from over the top of the papers too.

“Can you lend them to us afterwards”, Merlin asked nicely and the woman smiled back, gave him a nod and agreed.

His former manservant was either blind or dumb. No, he was both.

While they drove on no one talked. Arthur had loved to ask Merlin about the strange letters, ask why he could read them and finally find out more about the future, but he didn’t dare with the woman in the room. With her pale skin and dark hair she reminded him of Morgana and that hurt deep, deeper than he wished it would. After a while she handed the papers to Merlin, excusing herself for a while.

“So, what is it”, Merlin asked as soon as the door closed behind her.

“I’m able to read this strange letters”, Arthur mumbled. “I didn’t really realize until now but I can read them and they make sense but that isn’t possible.”

Merlin blinked, looked at the words and then back at Arthur. He could see in his face that Merlin hadn’t realized it himself until now. Arthur shouldn’t be able to read what these words said. With that Arthur realized he also actually shouldn’t be able to speak to all the other people around them, shouldn’t understand them. They weren’t speaking their language, they were speaking something new. And that was why the name of this country sounded so utterly strange and wrong to him.

“I really don’t know the answers to that”, Merlin admitted. “I didn’t really thought about it, I already speak this language for such a long time.” He shook his head, his brow furrowed. “It’s possible the Sidhe have something to do with it, or maybe whatever it is destiny is.”

Arthur nodded, then pointed at the parchment, “What is this?”

“A newspaper”, Merlin turned it so the front page was shown, the words _“Murder in London”_ in big letters on the paper. “It gives you information about what is going on in London, England and the world.” Merlin seemed to read the first few lines. “This article is about why we’re going to London, maybe we should read it. The news often have information Scotland Yard doesn’t have and we need all we can get.”

“You think the sorcerer would give information to the people writing this?”

Merlin shook his head, then nodded once, in the end shrugged, “Not sure.”

However this people were able to write fast enough to get many enough of this newspaper out to inform the whole of London and even further, the evenly written letters confused Arthur more. How was one person able to write like this? Unless it was magic.

It wasn’t magic, as he found out as soon as Merlin had finished reading and was asked. They used something like a stamp. It sounded ridiculous. But it seemed to work and give information out to much more people than a barker ever would be able to. Printing press was still a silly word.

The woman came back when he had just started reading what Merlin had called an _article_. It wasn’t written interesting but still more thrilling than the reports he often had had to go through as a king. When he remembered he would never have to read them again it formed a small smile on his lips but then he came to the list of victims.

Merlin had told him there was a child under the deaths, one he possibly even knew. It reminded him of his first day back, when he had stood in Merlin’s house – his house – no, their house – and thought the other rooms might lead to the bedchambers of children, of a wife. Maybe once they had, he thought, dismissed the thought in the next moment. Merlin would have outlived his own children. This hurt. But he seemed to be fond of the children living in his little village, even of the older people there – if you didn’t count the Father in. And he was fond of the street children of London. It was such a Merlin thing, Arthur didn’t even need to question it. Guinevere would have been the same. Actually, Merlin and Guinevere always had pretty much similarity when he thought about it like that.

While he had been in his head the woman had started a conversation with Merlin who was way too nice to block out other people. At least that hadn’t changed. Merlin would still talk to anyone as long as he didn’t feel there was something wrong with them.

That reminded him there had to be something relating the Father. Arthur himself couldn’t smell him, but Merlin seemed to dislike the man on another level.

“And what brings you to London”, the woman asked in that moment.

Arthur lifted his gaze to observe her, then he looked over to Merlin who still had a polite smile on his face which didn’t fool Arthur in the least. Merlin didn’t want to talk, be it because he didn’t like the woman or whatever reason it was. Maybe she had said something, maybe Merlin just didn’t feel like talking at the moment.

Arthur turned the newspaper so the front page was shown to the woman before he himself answered, “My uncle is one of the victims of this case and since I’m his only family left they want me there to identify him. My friend is only accompanying me.”

The woman eyed him unpleasant, “I heard all the victims were filthy homeless.”

Even without Merlin twitching because of the words Arthur got angry. It was bad enough there were still homeless people in times like this, where they had food from the other end of the world and could travel at this speed. To still have people sleeping on the streets and not being able to eat in a country that once was his. It felt as if he had wronged them.

Arthur licked his lips, tried his best to not sound threatening, “It doesn’t matter if they were homeless, that are things that could be prevented by a caring government. They were still people, still part of my- of this country.” He had nearly slipped right there. “The peasants are what makes a kingdom exist, what makes it strong. Without them there is no kingdom to fight for, so don’t think you are any better than any of them. One of the victims was a child. Do you think it decided to lose their home, to live on the street without any caring parents? Do you think this child wanted to have no choice at all?”

Merlin put a hand on his arm and Arthur realized he had leaned forward, something he normally had done in council meetings when the old men of his father wouldn’t stop talking rubbish, denying his decisions. He gave a look to Merlin who watched him thankful. It was alright to lean back again. Arthur hit the newspaper on the seat next to the woman.

She had pursed her lips, her face had grown red. If out of shame or fury, Arthur couldn’t care less. He just wished she would leave them alone. He had developed a seventh sense for when Merlin needed a hug, he got the feeling. And right now was this time. Maybe he himself needed one too. His breathing was calm but deep at the moment and he would have favored to rage openly, pull his sword or throw knifes on a moving target.

Going into a fight seemed great right now after he had slept for a thousand years.

Her gaze loomed over them for a time, then to Merlin’s hand still on his arm. “I should have known the second I came in”, she said disgusted and stood up. She left without a word of goodbye, letting the newspaper lie on the bench.

Arthur watched her go but didn’t really know what she was telling them. Whatever she meant to know was wide over his understanding.

Merlin sighted and leaned his head against Arthur’s shoulder. “Finally gone”, he muttered under his breath.

Arthur ruffled his hair and smiled, “Hadn’t you taken her advances you wouldn’t have had to talk to her at all.”

“What advances”, Merlin asked. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I sometimes forget I’m young again… Have been an old man for such a long time. And even then, most woman just don’t flirt with me.”

Arthur knew Guinevere as well as Morgana and probably many other people had at least for a time fancied Merlin, but he hadn’t the need to tell him that. “It’s the ears, surely”, he said instead.

Merlin grunted shortly, “At least my trousers fit me.”

“Maybe because I’m wearing them”, Arthur countered.

This time he got a laugh out of Merlin, “We need to buy you some as soon as we arrive. You can’t stand in front of the Inspector and not even have a fitting jacket.”

“I’m sure Lancelot doesn’t mind”, he said with a faint smile. “Would make him feel better when he remembers I was the one who married Guinevere.”

“It’s Staver”, Merlin reminded him. “And he won’t remember. They never remember.” He sounded sad, even a little hurt.

Arthur hated seeing him like that, hated it so much. He remembered how Merlin had looked the day of Lancelot’s funeral, and now it was even worse. But he didn’t know what he could do other but being there. Maybe being there would help Merlin.

“Also has his good sides, don’t you think”, he said after a while. Merlin shot him a questioning look. “He isn’t heartbroken.”

Merlin watched him a moment, then gave him the saddest smile he had ever seen on another human. This so didn’t go as intended.

“I know you probably are”, Merlin said.

Then and there Arthur realized Merlin had never known Guinevere and him weren’t as much in love as they had thought in the beginning of their relationship, hadn’t been what they had shown the world. In the end the others had been right and he hadn’t loved Guinevere as much as he should have, hadn’t given her what she deserved. But she had never hated him for it and he was glad she was the one on his side and not one of the princesses his father had pressed on him. He knew when he had to decide once more he would still take her as his queen and no one else. Maybe Merlin – as a joke.

“I miss them”, he confessed though. “All our friends are gone now, but I hope they had a good life. I wish for it. And you shouldn’t forget _we_ have each other, now.”

Merlin shook his head, “You know I’m talking about Gwen.”

“And Guinevere was my friend the same as any other.”

Merlin’s brow furrowed. Maybe he had taken the hint, Arthur wasn’t sure. He didn’t dare to ask. Merlin had been the one who had helped him court Guinevere and without him the two of them probably wouldn’t have worked out at all. It was then he realized he wouldn’t even ever have talked to Guinevere hadn’t it been for Merlin. Letting him know what really had been wasn’t a wise decision.

“What I want to say is, I miss her”, he said therefor. “But I also miss Gaius and Leon, Elyan, Percival, even Gawain. And yes, also Lancelot. By the gods, I even feel as if I miss Mordred.” Merlin’s breath hitched. Arthur held him against his side. “He run his sword through me, but for a long time he was like a son to me. I’m not even sure if I could hate him.” Tears were running down Merlin’s face and Arthur wished he could be this open himself. “And now we aren’t talking about this anymore. We will live in the now, not in the past. I’m here, Merlin, not gone anymore. And I won’t go anywhere without you, understood?”


End file.
